Broken
by Alice laughed
Summary: Claire's mom took their family away shortly after finding out about Quil. The implications of a broken imprint are far reaching and can impact you - body and soul. The bond is deeper than anyone ever realized.
1. Chapter 1

_This is one of those ideas that wouldn't let go. Thanks to Spotzle for the beta. You should read her stuff. It's delicious. And Mrs. Whitlock, I still want you too. I'm just impatient to get this first bit up before Breaking Dawn makes us all crazynuts._

* * *

Chapter 1

_Hanging on to hope when there is no hope to speak of  
And the wounded skies above say its much too late  
So maybe we should all be praying for time_

_ -George Michael_

I saw a werewolf drinking a piña colada at Trader Vic's  
His hair was perfect.  
Ah woooooo!_  
_

I squeezed my eyes tightly shut against the coming day and reached over to press the button on the alarm clock to silence it. Today was supposed to be monumental. I should have set the radio to some sort of classical station so I'd have a chance of being woken up by Sousa or some other rousing song. But, lucky me, I get to start the first day of the rest of my life with _Werewolves of London._

I'd normally look for meaning in everything on a day like today, but there was obviously nothing to be found there.

I lay in the early morning quiet, trying to amp up the courage to get through the day. I felt like I'd been searching for most of my life for something that was within reach, but hiding just out of sight. A cure… a promise… a _something_ that I was sure was out there. Today I would have to face the idea that the something was nothing more than a forgotten memory in the back of my mind, never to be discovered.

I needed to get my head on straight before starting out. It was going to be difficult enough to get through the day without breaking down. I'd always been pragmatic Claire, I took things as they came. I didn't break down in front of my family, because I'd learned a long time ago that that only made things harder for everyone. Not to say that I didn't cry in front of them, I wasn't a robot. But I never let them see me in despair.

I turned my head as a gentle tapping on the door startled me from my thoughts.

"Claire? Are you up?" Amanda's voice sounded through the wood.

"I got it," I answered her, thanking God that I'd asked her to do this with me instead of giving in to my parents. If they had their way I'd still be in the passenger seat while they made all the decisions. It had taken me two years to take hold of my life, but now that I'd finally made a stand it was time to get going.

"Let me know if you need any help," she answered.

"Sure thing," I replied, and waited until I heard the sound of her footsteps going down the hall before I flung the quilts back with a grunt. The shards of glass in my joints didn't waste any time screaming to action, and I bit back a swear as I hoisted myself out of bed and carefully made my way to the shower.

Amanda, my older sister, was my saving grace; the only one who didn't baby me, and sometimes it seemed like the only one who could remember a time when none of this had been necessary. What was it? 18 years now? Almost. Most of my life. Most of forever.

I washed carefully, moving slowly in the hot water. No matter how steamy I got it, I never felt warm. I gave that up a long time ago. My body was small, unremarkable except in its thinness, but it was all I had and I loved it anyway.

Amanda came in to help me with socks and shoes, and to fix my hair. She was a master at arranging it, especially now that it was finally nearly chin length again. Her creations of clips, braids, and rubber bands looked more like artwork atop my head instead of hairstyles designed to hide thinning places. She chattered while she worked, singing along to the radio and telling me stories about the weirdoes in her classes. I loved it, nearly as much as I loved her attitude of "no big deal" about it all.

"Are you sure you want to do this today?" she said quietly, resting her hands on my shoulders.

"What are you going to side with the rest of them and say I need to try another place if that's what it comes to?" I met her eyes in the mirror. "You don't have to come. I can call a cab." It might be easier to get the news alone. I knew what they were going to say anyway.

Her eyes flashed. "You know I wouldn't do that to you. But it's your birthday, Claire. Don't you want to just take the day and…" she trailed off and bit her lip, her eyes bright with unshed tears. She knew.

"I can't," I shook my head. "Today is the first day of the _rest_ of my life, Amanda. We both know what he's going to say. Putting it off for one more day isn't going to change anything." I turned so I could face her and wrapped my arms around her waist. "I have to do this," I mumbled into her shirt.

"I know," she stroked my back. "Let's go before you mess up your hair."

:-:o:-:

Antiseptic air washed over me as the doors of Hopkins whooshed open. It was a smell that made some people cringe in fear, but it didn't affect me like that. It was simply another part of the hand I'd been dealt in life.

The Clinic for Children with Special Healthcare Needs started at 9am on the dot, and made for a long day. I still came, despite not being a child anymore, because they were the same doctors who had been with me for the last six years. I liked the setup, it was handy getting them all out of the way on the same day, even though it made for a marathon of appointments. We'd had it that way at the Mayo before, and at Cedars before that. Amanda had stopped coming when she was old enough to be in school, and Hope had never been. She paused inside the door, a little overwhelmed I'm sure, and I reached back to pat her hand in reassurance.

"It's okay," I soothed. "Let's go see Judy and get my card."

She took a deep breath and stepped bravely forward. The rubber wheels of my chair squeaked slightly on the floor as we turned to the desk to sign in. Judy looked up, her glasses perched in her hair as she talked on the phone. She held one finger up in acknowledgment and finished her call before coming around the counter to grasp my hands warmly.

"Claire," she said warmly. "It's so good to see you. Happy Birthday."

"Thanks Judy. What have we got today?"

"Now Claire, you're such a celebrity, you know they all want to see you," she grinned.

"They all want to poke me, more like it." I rolled my eyes and she chuckled while handing me my card. I glanced at the list and grimaced. "Judy you're killing me. Psych?"

"It's part of it all Claire," she said.

"But she's such a flake," I groaned. I turned around in my chair to look at Amanda. "They have me seeing the woman who tried to use Cheerios as a metaphor for life," I sighed dramatically while she giggled. "Can't we see Margot?" I begged Judy.

"She's out or you would," she answered, flipping through the schedule. "I'm sorry Hon, but you have to see someone or they'll never sign off. Beverly is the only one who fits in your rotation today."

"Great." I muttered.

"Think of her as comic relief." Judy leaned down and hugged my shoulders gently. "I'm glad I got to see you. I'll run your chart today so if you need a break or anything…"

"Thanks Judy." I flashed her a smile. "Let's get this train started." I pointed down the hall so Amanda would know where to go. "To nephrology."

Five specialists and a quick lunch later, we were at the door to Beverly's office. "Prepare yourself," I muttered to Amanda, and knocked on the door.

The woman who answered somehow managed to look like a hippie, even while dressed in business attire. You could probably stick her in surgical scrubs and she'd still look like she was sporting a peace medallion somewhere on her body. It was just her air.

"Unsinkable Claire!" she boomed, throwing open the door wide.

"I thought that was Molly Brown," I muttered under my breath. Amanda suppressed a snicker as we moved through the door. If Beverly heard it she made no sign. "Hello Beverly," I said aloud.

Judy breezed in and dropped off my chart, winking at me on her way out. I rolled my eyes at her and crossed them in response. I could have sworn I heard her cover a laugh with a sneeze as she walked out the door, so I was grinning when Beverly sank to her couch and turned to me.

"You're in good spirits today," she commented. "Where all have you been?"

She had the info right in front of her, but I decided to play along. "Nephrology told me my kidneys are shot. Endocrinology can't make sense of the labs. Immunology still desperately wants me to have Lupus. Hematology says I'm anemic, again. And gastro got on me about weight gain and getting another button. Now we have you, then neurology, cardiology, and a meeting with the big guy before I'm out of here."

"Out of here?" she pursed her lips, waiting. Beverly never deviated from her plan of trying to get me to open up. Unlike Margot, who took me as I was and let me deal with things my way, Beverly insisted that talking about things would help me heal. Like anything could. She was as clueless as the next person about what my body was up to, but she kept insisting that _talking_ might get me somewhere.

"Yep," I said, popping the p.

"How does that make you feel?" she asked Amanda. But I wasn't having any of that. She could try to put me through her wringer all she wanted to, but she wasn't getting her hands on my sister.

"Listen Bev," I said quickly, feeling that this was probably part of her plan to get me talking but going along with it anyway. "There's not much point to any of this anymore. We've exhausted our options, and there's nothing more to be said. It is what it is, and it's time to be practical about it."

"But doesn't it hurt? Don't you feel that there's some other way to go about this?"

"Doesn't it hurt?" I echoed, incredulous. "Listen to yourself. It hurts all day, every day. It always has! Don't you think it will hurt less to just get away from all this extra crap that doesn't do a lick of good? It's time."

"Have you given up hope?" she pressed.

I sighed and sat with my shoulders slumped. This was comic relief? "You know I won't ever really give up hope. But I can't do it like this anymore. All I want is a little peace. I need you to let me go look for some peace."

Amanda was quiet through all of this, shifting her eyes between us like she was watching a tennis match. "I feel resigned," she volunteered quietly. "You called Claire a Cheerio once… said she'd always pop back up. It's her attitude. I think it's quite possible that she'll pop up in a way that we don't understand, or could never understand. And I think it's likely that she's going to let go, at least as we know it. But I also think it's time, past time, to take it as it comes and stop looking so hard for answers that just don't appear to be there. It's put her through a lot. It's put all of us through a lot. And so… we go." She didn't look up the entire time she was talking, focusing on her hands instead. I used the opportunity to wipe my eyes. We'd never spoken aloud about any of this before, but somehow she'd verbalized the desires of my heart.

I wanted to pop up in some new way, some completely incomprehensible but fundamental way. I could only dream that if I quit looking, it would find me.

Beverly didn't say a word, but reached over and placed her hand on my knee. This time I didn't cringe away.

"Peace is something worth hoping for," she said simply. "I hope you find it." She bent over my chart and scribbled something quickly. It was the first time I ever felt anything along the lines of like for the woman, and here we were at the end of our relationship.

"Good luck Claire. And you too," she said to Amanda. And that was that.

We left her office, stopping in the hall so Amanda could sit for a minute on a bench next to my chair.

I drew a deep, shuddering breath. "Whoa," said Amanda. "Are they always like that?"

"Actually, with Bev it's usually me glaring at her while she tries some lame get in touch with your feelings crap with me. This is the first time we've actually gotten something said." I leaned back so I could see her. "And you were the one who said most of it." I looked at her pointedly.

"Well," she clucked her tongue. "Wasn't it true?"

"Yeah, it was. It is. But…"

"You want to get in touch with your feelings now?" she grinned at me. "It's okay Claire. This has been a long time coming. Frankly, I'm amazed that you put up with it this long."

I shook my head, dazed. "Why do you know me when no one else does?"

"Claire," she stopped and knelt down, grasping the arm rest of my chair for balance. "I've watched you through all of this, from your end of things. For a long time it was Mom running the show, and you didn't have a choice. Then there was everything with Hope, and we all thought that would be it, but it wasn't. I've seen you go through treatments and diagnoses when all you wanted to do was curl up with a book somewhere sunny and be.

"So far as I know, you've never even asked why all of this had to happen." She shook her head. "I used to think you were some sort of angel, sent down to teach us patience and grace in difficult situations. At least when you weren't being a pest anyway," she smiled fondly. "I don't know if I'll ever understand why you kept going along with this."

I shook my head sadly. "It's because I always thought there was something out there, something more. I always just _knew_ there was something out there that would work and take all of this away and I'd be well. But now I'm just so tired. I'm tired of looking and being patient. I just want to rest. Maybe there isn't anything out there, maybe there still is and we just never found it, but at least we can say we tried." And maybe if I quit looking it might find me.

I couldn't tell her that part. I couldn't plant that seed of wild hope in her brain when it would probably never come to fruit. That heartache was mine to bear.

We put our heads together, right there in the hallway, and stayed there.

"I'm going to miss you Claire," she said thickly. "But I don't blame you a bit."

I nodded, unable to answer her. "Let's get this done," I said weakly. "Let's just get this over with."

:-:o:-:

Dr. Bob's head was almost as shiny as his glasses. He was the big guy, the boss, the one who gave me the diagnosis "unspecified autoimmune disorder" and oversaw every aspect of my case. But even with all of that, he was never formal, and talked to me like I was a person with a worthwhile brain in my head. Of all the physicians in the clinic, he was my favorite. He was the grandfather I never had, and he was the one who would give me the news I was here to find - the proverbial last stop of the train.

"Claire," he said warmly, leaning down to kiss my cheek. "Happy birthday darling." He stood back up and chuckled to himself. "Only you would schedule this visit for today."

"You know me, Doc. Gotta go out with a bang." I smiled up at him. "Tell it to me straight."

"Well," he said, sitting on the edge of his desk. "You know this as well as I do. Your labs make absolutely no sense in any conventional terms. You've never fit any standard protocol, and even when we hit on something that you would respond to, your quirky little body would only put up with it for about six months before all bets were off again." He took his glasses off and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "You'd be incredibly frustrating if we didn't love the daylights out of you."

I smiled up at him. "You know why I'm here, Doc. You might be kind of glad."

"Oh Claire," he sighed. "It's never easy to say goodbye to someone. Even if they are the most irritating puzzle you've ever come across in your life."

I just shrugged, feeling another attack of the weepies coming on.

He cleared his throat, and assumed what I always called his business posture. "Claire, your organs are showing signs of failure. The damage is system wide, and we can't find the cause. I have no recommendations for further treatment options. I believe we've done all we can do."

I tried to keep the tears from falling as I looked up at the man who'd be there for all the hard stuff over the last six years. "I'm pretty broken, huh Doc?" I tried to play it off, for both our sakes. "Hey twenty years is a pretty good run though. It's been good."

He smiled down at me and put his hand on top of my head. "All things considered, twenty years is an excellent run."

"How much longer?"

"I hesitate to even make a guess where you're concerned, Claire. But I would put it around six months, more or less depending on what your body decides to do." He took his hand from my head and cleared his throat. "Of course we can get you all set up with hospice and provide you with a pain management plan."

"Don't worry about it Doc." I waved him off. "You know none of those drugs has ever worked on me anyway. And I have a plan."

"I'm sure you do Claire." He looked at me with a small smile. "I'm sure you do."

:-:o:-:

Amanda chewed her lip as we waited for the parking voucher from the attendant. "So that's it? That's all?"

"It seems kind of anticlimactic doesn't it?" I leaned my head back against the headrest of her Civic and rubbed my temples. "I mean, it's not every day that you get the news that you're dying."

"Yeah," she was quiet. The only noise was the swick of the windshield wipers as we headed back toward the freeway. "What's your plan?"

"Mom's not going to like it." I looked at her profile. Amanda was so beautiful, kind of like I hoped I would be if I hadn't been sick all the time. She was so much taller than I was, 5'7" to my barely scraping past five feet tall. She had rounded curves and smooth skin where all I had were sharp angles and roughened patches. We looked much farther apart in age than the 3 years that separated us.

She shot me a worried look at my silence. "What isn't Mom going to like?"

"Well," I hadn't told anyone my plan yet, but Amanda would be on my side. She always was. "I want to call Aunt Emily."

Her eyes widened. "Really? But we don't even know her."

"I know, but she's family, and she lives way over on the other side of the country. It's someplace peaceful and far away. And I have to get away."

"But… but why?" Her face was starting to crumple, and I rushed to tell her some of my reasons.

"I can't stay here. It's not just Mom and Dad. It's you, and it's Hope. I can't put her through this." I leaned my head back again and pounded my fists on my thighs. "I mean geez, it's like a setup for disaster. She can't get away from it at all. They even _named_ her something that revolves around me." I stared at the drops of water streaming along the window with our speed. "What kind of mind job would it be to watch me fade away when she was the one who was supposed to save me?" I muttered. "She's only a kid. I can't put her through that."

"But does it have to be so far away?" Amanda was fighting back tears.

"You don't want to watch me die," I shook my head. "You think you do, but you don't. I don't want you to see me that way."

She pulled to a stop on the side of the freeway and turned to face me as I continued.

"I need you to remember me now, like this. You said it before that you've been through all of it with me. I can't let you go through this too." I looked at her imploringly.

"I just… I didn't know that I'd have to say goodbye to you so soon." She swiped at the tears rolling down her face, trying to be strong as she always was. "I thought we'd have more time."

"There's always the phone and email," I said, trying not to break down myself. We'd never make it home if both of us were crying. "It doesn't have to be goodbye for real. Not yet."

"It's not the same." She heaved a sigh and put her hands back on the wheel. "Mom is going to freak."

"Let her." I didn't care. It was time to go back to the only place on Earth where I'd been well. It was time to wrap myself in solitude, and let peace find me.

It was time to go back to La Push.

* * *

_So many of you were supportive with me pulling the Spectrum story, so thank you for that. This is your consolation prize. No, I won't leave fanfiction. There is too much to play with here, and I still feel like I need the practice. Plus the instant gratification is hard to resist._

_This is a huge departure from my first Quil and Claire. I hope you enjoy it as much. I do plan to start a thread over at Twilighted (dot) net for this story, and will do the Tuesday Teasers there as well as any discussion and fun you want to do. Come on over._

_Other than that, drop a review my way. What do you think of the direction we're going here?_


	2. 2: Let me go

_The link for the discussion thread on twilighted is in my profile. Last chapter's song was "Praying for Time" by George Michael. This chapter is "Hurt" by Nine Inch Nails. You can google it. :snicker:_

_Many of you have asked. I'm going for weekly updates on this one, and the teasers on Tuesdays to keep me motivated. Many thanks to Spotzle for her Beta work. I'm a comma dunce, and I still don't think I caught all the little red marks I was supposed to take out. Go read her A Matter of Convenience. It's delish._

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Chapter 2

_If I could start again  
A million miles away  
I would keep myself  
I would find a way_

_-Trent Resnor_

I looked at my watch as we pulled into the driveway. We beat our parents home, just barely. Mom would be rolling in in about twenty minutes. Dad wouldn't be far behind her. I was glad for the small time buffer before I'd have to tell them about my day, and my plans.

Amanda got my chair and stashed it in the garage while I made my way up to the house and unlocked the door. I refused to use it at home. I wouldn't do that until I absolutely had to. Even if it would save wear and tear on my knees, like Mom said, it would cause wear and tear on my psyche.

"Do you need anything?" Amanda asked as she paused at the bottom of the stairs, her hand already on the banister.

"No, I'm just going to take another shower. Wash the hospital off," I assured her.

She nodded and thundered up the stairs while I made my slow way down the hallway to my bedroom. I had the downstairs master suite since it was the only bedroom in the house that didn't require me to go upstairs.

I closed the door gently behind me and thumbed the lock so I wouldn't be disturbed. I leaned back against it for a moment, wanting to slide down and just wad myself up on the floor, but it would be hard to get up on my own so I crossed the room and turned on the stereo. I left it on the radio station that Amanda had tuned in that morning. The music didn't matter, I just needed the sound cover.

That done, I clutched the edge of the table and let loose the silent scream that had been building inside me all day. It was a skill that I'd perfected out of necessity. It had all the emotional power of completely going berserk and screaming my brains out, without alerting my family. All the tension that had wrapped around my neck and ears came pouring out through my open mouth, but it wasn't enough.

Blindly I shuffled across the room, tearing the clothing from my body. I turned on the water in the shower and stepped in without giving it a chance to warm up. Sitting on my stool I let it beat down on the top of my head, hoping the noise of the water and the stereo would mask any sounds I might make.

I realized that I was rocking back and forth, clutching my chest as if I could fill the gaping emptiness that had been there as long as I could remember. The sobs poured out of my body like they had a life of their own. I couldn't get a hold of myself, but I had to manage something. I would be expected at the dinner table no matter what.

I leaned my head against the tile wall in surrender. I didn't want to be brave or graceful or remarkable. I didn't want to be anyone's angel. I just wanted a body that worked, and a chance to live a life full of promise like everyone else.

At least I could do one thing. I could say no to anymore tubes and wires. No more monitors. No surgeries, biopsies, or treatments that just might give us the answers. No more samples, pokes, or prods that ultimately led to nowhere.

If nowhere was where we were going, I could get there on my own thank you very much.

I turned the water to cool and tilted my face up so the evidence of my fit could be washed away. I had to draw my armor back on, pull pragmatic Claire back out of the box I kept her in. Getting what I wanted, no _needed_, was going to take a fight, and I couldn't break down in the middle of it.

I was shaky as I dried myself off, spent from releasing my pent up emotions. I felt emptied and cleansed, able to take on what needed to be done.

I pulled on my usual around the house garb of yoga pants and a long sleeved T, and flipped the radio off on my way out of the room. Mom was home, I could hear her heels clicking on the tiles of the kitchen floor as she moved around. Even her footsteps were quick and decisive.

I leaned against the snack bar counter that separated the kitchen from the dining room and watched her as she moved. She was an older version of Amanda, with shorter hair and darker skin. She spent her days working in an accounting firm and her meticulous nature carried over into every aspect of her life, from the way she dressed to the way she tore the lettuce for salad.

She looked up to see me standing there. "Oh hi honey," she said, moving across the room to kiss me gently on my forehead. I knew the move was to check my temperature as much as it was to say hello, but didn't comment on it.

"Hi, Mom. Do you need any help?"

"No, but thank you for the offer. I figured we all had a pretty long day so I picked up some pizza on the way home. I'm just fixing salad to go with it. Why don't you go relax."

"Okay," I sighed, not willing to fight with her over chopping produce. I'd save up all the fight for later when it mattered.

I wandered into the living room to find Hope sprawled on her stomach in front of the television, waving her feet around in the air as she giggled. America's Funniest Home Videos was on, and she loved any of them that featured cats.

"Hey, Sunshine, no homework today?" I teased her. I could see the worksheet tossed carelessly on the coffee table.

"Claire!" She jumped up and ran over to hug me. "Were the doctors nice to you today? Did they poke you?"

"Oh they wanted to!" I told her. "But I said, 'No way! You vampires need to keep your needles to yourselves!'"

She giggled at that. "Claire that's silly. Vampires don't have needles."

"You're right," I said seriously. "They probably don't hang around hospitals either, do they?" I poked her on the nose and she giggled again in response.

"The doctors were all very nice to me, and Judy sent home a purple lollipop just for you, but I'm not supposed to give it to you until after dinner."

Hope beamed in response, and we settled down to do her worksheet until it was time to go eat. I loved helping her with her homework. It was so much fun to watch the little wheels turning in her head as she walked around the living room thinking of sentences for her vocabulary words. I might have been a teacher if things had worked out differently.

Mom started to ask about our day at the dinner table, but I cut my eyes quickly in Hope's direction. "Can we talk later and just enjoy pizza for now?"

Hope looked up from her plate, her worried brown eyes darting between us.

"You wouldn't believe it, we saw the Cheerio lady today," Amanda broke in, easing the tension. She went on to describe Beverly in great detail, sending Hope into giggles as she speculated that she must burn patchouli incense in her office between patients and listen to the weird old Beatles songs.

I sent her a silent thank you, and she patted my thigh in response. The reckoning would come after Hope was in bed.

:-:o:-:

Dad sat at the head of the table, as always. He was a lawyer with a good firm in town, and had never had any trouble finding a new firm to work with when we moved. There were rumblings that he would be asked to run as a judge during the next election. I hoped he'd take on the challenge. He would be excellent behind the bench.

He and Mom had met long ago in Washington, when she was doing the books for the tribe and he was called in to assist them in some legal matter. After the issue was resolved he kept finding reasons to show up in Mom's offices, and the rest was history.

I looked at their hands resting on the table top, hers clasped in his, white wrapped around warm brown. They would manage fine without me once they got used to the idea.

Mom was seated to Dad's left, and Amanda and I were across the table from her. It was time for our family council to begin.

"Well Claire," Dad's voice rumbled. "How did today go?"

I placed my hands on the table top. They were sweaty, and I stretched my fingers out and pressed them to the cool wood before answering him.

"I think we all know what went on today." Even though it was quiet I sounded like I was shouting inside my head. I didn't look up from my hands.

"Claire," Mom's voice was a warning to me.

I looked up to her narrowed eyes.

"Okay," I said in a sigh. "All indications are that I'm headed to multi-system organ failure. There is nothing more that they can do for me. Dr. Bob said that he can help set us up with hospice to make things easier." My voice sounded strong even though I felt so incredibly weak on the inside.

Mom's breath was coming faster now, and I looked up to see her stony expression as she dragged her notebook toward her. She began paging through it. "Well, I hear that they are doing remarkable things up in Boston, and we could always try-"

"Mom, no." I cut her off before she could get going.

She looked up at me fiercely, her nostrils flared and white at the edges.

"We can't uproot everyone again chasing a cure," I said in what I hoped was a firm voice.

"Are you just giving up Claire? Is that what you're doing?" Her words were angry but her voice was lanced through with pain.

"No Mama," I said, reverting back to childhood in that instant. "But I don't think that Doc would cut me loose if there was anything more that could be done. We've been to some of the best places in the country. No one has ever figured out what's wrong with me. In eighteen years of treatment, not a single doctor or researcher has found something to fit."

"Nothing is _wrong_ with you Claire," she snapped.

"Semantics, Mom. Everything is wrong with me. I'm falling to pieces and no one knows why. It's time to take a break and stop dragging everyone around trying to find answers that just aren't there!" I couldn't help feeling angry at her. She always insisted that there was nothing wrong, that I was just different. Well now I was different enough to die for it, and she was still trying to make me use some self-esteem terminology like it mattered. Everything was wrong and nothing could be done about it.

"You can't just give up Claire," she pleaded.

"It's not giving up. It's accepting that we are in a place where we can't do anything more but wait. We've done _everything _that's out there! Heck! Dad got a freaking vasectomy reversal so you could have Hope and use her cord blood on me. And _that_ didn't work in the long run. Nothing will. There's just something screwed up in my body. That's it. Finito. End of story!" Angry tears stood out in my eyes as I looked across the table at the woman whose heart was breaking at that moment. I hated doing this to her. I hated doing this to all of us, but it was the only way to get her to let go.

"I'm sorry Mama. I just can't do it anymore." My voice broke and the tears spilled out and ran down my cheeks unheeded.

"Claire," Dad's deep voice drew me out of my pit and I turned my head to look at him. His eyes were bright with unshed tears and I felt like he was looking right through me to my soul.

"Baby, what do you want us to do?"

I took a minute to compose myself, swiping at the tears that continued to run silently down my face as I steeled myself for the next confrontation. When I felt I had myself under control, I looked back up at both of my parents. Amanda reached her hand over and rested it on the small of my back as I took a deep breath before speaking.

"I want to go home."

Both of them looked confused at my words, but I let that sink in for a second before I continued.

"I want to call Aunt Emily, and I want to go back to Washington."

Dad's face held shock. It was the last thing I think he expected to hear from me, especially since I'd just said things about uprooting the family again. Mom, on the other hand, was starting to get angry again. I kept talking.

"I want to go there and be where I was before all of this started. And I want to go alone. I don't want any of you there to watch me get sicker. I don't want to put any of you through that."

"How very noble of you," Mom said icily.

"Mom, it's not like that," I began.

"No Claire," she interrupted me, slamming her hand down on the table with a smack. "You don't have any idea what it's like. You have no idea what kind of life my… my sister is living over there with that _pack_ she hangs out with."

Mom's voice dripped venom as she spoke. I wasn't used to it. Always before when she talked about Aunt Emily it was with laughter as she told us stories of the kinds of trouble she and her sister used to get in to when they were kids. When we'd ask her why we never visited, and why they never spoke anymore she would just shrug her shoulders and refuse to answer. We knew they'd had some sort of fight when I was only two years old, but we didn't know what about or why.

"I know I don't know," I said desperately. "You never took us back there to visit. What's so bad that we'd never go back? What's so awful about her?"

"Nothing is awful about her," Mom's knuckles were white on the table top. "Except that she'd let a _baby…_" she snapped her mouth closed, breathing hard through her nose, and looked away.

"So you'd just run away from your family?" she asked without looking back at me.

"I can't stay here." I closed my eyes and shook my head. "You all think you want me to, but you don't. Life will be so much easier when I'm not here. You won't have to worry about me dragging you down."

"Life will never be easier without you Claire," Dad said softly.

I felt like they'd punched me in the gut. Did they think this was any easier for me? Did they think that I just made a snap decision without thinking it through? Was I still some little kid who needed her parents to make all the hard decisions for her?

Anger coursed through me again, just when I needed it most, and I stood up abruptly. My chair slid backwards before tipping over and crashing to the floor. Amanda reached over and took my hand in hers, trying to quiet me or lend me strength, I wasn't sure which.

"Don't treat me like I'm some kid trying to run away!" I nearly shouted. "What do you think that I don't know what this is doing to all of us? Do you think I like it? Have you even thought about what having me around here wasting away would do to this family? And what about Hope? Do you even know what that would do to _her_?"

They were all looking at me wide eyed. It reminded me of the only other time I'd lost my temper with my family. I'd finally stood my ground about six months before, insisting that I wasn't a child and I wanted to have a say in my own medical care. They were probably regretting that right now.

"This isn't easy for any of us. Why don't you let me spare you what I can?" I half screamed, half begged them.

"So you want to go stay with family that you don't remember and… and…" Dad couldn't say the word.

"Die!" I said recklessly. "I'm going to die and there's nothing anyone can do about it." My tears felt like they were on fire as they started from my eyes, pouring down my cheeks once again.

"And you think they'd just take you in and let you do that?" Dad was getting angry now.

"Emily would," Mom said quietly, almost whispering.

"Claire?"

All of us turned to see Hope standing in the doorway in her Barbie nightgown. Her eyes looked much too large in her frightened face. Our shouting must have awakened her.

"Oh baby," Mom said softly, holding her arms out. Hope ran to her and buried her head, sobbing.

I felt like I was caught in a whirlpool. Amanda looked at me with worry shining through the tears in her eyes, and I tore myself out of her grasp. Joints screaming, I ran down the hall as fast as I was able and threw myself into my room. I couldn't do anything right. That was the last way in the world I wanted Hope to find out what was going on. I'd always tried to protect her from the uglier side of my life.

I collapsed in tears on my bed without even bothering to turn on the light. It was useless. All of the fighting was useless. I was being swept along and it felt like whatever I did to try to change things would be met with disaster.

The bed dipped slightly as someone sat on it next to me. I looked up expecting to see Amanda, but it was Dad. He reached over and put his hand on my back. His hand was warm and felt very large. I dropped my head back to my arms.

He didn't say anything for a long time. He just stroked my back. I could hear him breathing, hitching now and again, as he thought about all that we had said.

"I'm sorry Baby," he said with remorse. "We didn't handle that very well. I think you were right, and we all had an idea of what was going to happen today, but denial is a powerful thing.

"We've gotten so used to just stepping up to whatever the next fight is, that letting go is hard to comprehend. And letting go of you on top of that…" He swallowed heavily and shook his head. I could see tears drop from his eyes in the dim light from the hall. "It's not something we ever planned on doing."

I turned on my side so I could see him better in the dim light. He left his hand on my side. The weight was comforting, like he was holding me to the planet.

"What did you think would happen Daddy? Did you honestly think that we'd win in the end?" I'd thought that once, but I'd long gotten used to the idea that the something that was out there probably wasn't going to be found in my lifetime.

"Yeah Baby, we did. It's a part of being a parent I guess. We never think that something seriously could happen to one of our own. Those are the things that happen to other people's children." He paused and shook his head. "Even when it's staring at you straight in the face, you never want to back down."

"It's not backing down to let me go, Daddy."

I struggled to sit up and he put his hand on my elbow to help me. "It's going to be hard enough, fighting through this. You know I'm not going to let go easily. I'm going to hang on with as much as I can for as long as I can. But I don't want you to watch me. I don't want you to see me get weaker and not be able to walk. I want to you remember me as I am now, and if something happens it's more like I went to sleep and just never…" my voice broke.

He heaved a sigh. "We want you for as long as we can have you. But I understand what you're asking me too." He stroked my hair.

"Will you talk to Mom?"

He brushed the hair off my cheek and tucked it behind my ear. "I'll talk to her."

He got up and walked back to the door, his shoulders slumped.

"Daddy?" I couldn't help stopping him.

He paused with his hand on the frame. "Yeah Baby?"

"Thanks."

:-:o:-:

A fragile peace descended on our house. I knew not to push for anything right away. I'd come to the conclusion that I was on the downward slope a few months ago, and even though they must have known the same thing having it out in the open was going to take some time for everyone to get used to.

Hope adjusted better than my parents did. Maybe it was her nature, or maybe it was the fact that she was still a little kid, but she accepted my explanation and went with it.

She came running into my room a few mornings after the fight, as if she expected that I wouldn't be there and was frantic about it. It must have taken her that long to work up the courage to check on me first thing in the morning. She flew into my bed with me, and I hid my wince as her small body smashed into mine.

"Claire! You're still here!"

"Where else would I be, silly? It's 6:30 in the morning." I smiled at her.

"But you said that you were…" she looked at me closely. "I don't want to say that word."

I turned her until her back was toward me, so I could spoon her and rest my chin on the top of her head.

"I don't blame you. It's a scary word. But you know what I think?" I did my best to give my voice a lift. It was easier to do in whispers.

"What?" she whispered back.

"I think that we only call it dying because we don't know what it really is." I smoothed her hair with my hand and pressed my cheek to her head so my lips were near her ear.

"What if it's really something else? What if sometimes when a person dies, if they've done all they can with their life and lived the best they could… What if that person doesn't just get to go to Heaven? What if they get to be an angel?"

"You think you could be an angel?" she whispered.

"It would only be fair," I answered her. "God sent you for me, and I got to stay here on Earth for so much longer than I could have if you never came. Maybe I'm supposed to go to Heaven and be your angel and watch over you for all the rest of your life."

"But I don't want you to go watch over me. I want you to stay here."

"I don't want to leave you either, Sunshine." I squeezed her gently. "But we have to trust that God knows what He's doing."

"Do you trust Him?"

That was a question. "Sure I do. If I never got sick then I wouldn't have you." I had to believe that it all meant something or I'd go crazy.

"But then why didn't you stay well?"

"I don't know," I raised up and propped my head on my elbow. "You know I want to go to Aunt Emily's to see her, right?"

"Yes."

"Well, maybe there's something I'm supposed to do there. And I would never think to go there if I was still better. I'd probably be in like Amanda in college and just doing my thing. But maybe they need me to come over there for some reason, only no one knows it. It could be any reason, only we're just tiny people and we can't see it right now."

"You really think that Claire?"

"I really do. And if something happens to me before I get back here to you, well you'll just know that you have your own, special, personal angel up in Heaven watching over your every step."

She turned toward me and I kissed her cheek. "Go get ready for school or you'll be late."

She hugged me tightly, and then jumped up and ran out of the room, edging past Mom, who was standing in the doorway.

"How long have you been there?" I wondered.

"Long enough. You have such a way with her." She crossed the room and sat down on the bed next to me. She reached over and stroked my hair.

I shrugged my shoulders. "I love her."

"Yes," she nodded. "You two have always had such a bond." She sighed and looked out the window.

"I've been thinking," she began. My eyes shot to her face but she continued to gaze out the window as if her life depended on it.

"It's not really good for you to be here by yourself all day while we're at work and the girls are at school. You probably would enjoy more company."

I didn't say anything, simply waiting for what she had to say next.

"Emily's house was always packed full of people coming and going. I can't imagine that has changed. She was always such a welcoming soul."

She looked directly at me. Her eyes were very bright and she was blinking quickly. She swallowed.

"I don't have the time to look up her information before going to work. I have to take Hope to school this morning because your father had to go in early. But if you want, her last name is Uley, and as far as I know she still lives in La Push, Washington." She got up and left the room quickly, her heels tapping a staccato beat down the hall.

I stared after her in disbelief. Uley. Uley. I looked at the clock. It wasn't even four in the morning in Washington yet. I could hardly wait for it to be late enough to call.

* * *

_Now before you flog me... Not every chapter is going to be this sad! I promise._


	3. 3: Going Home

_This one is coming to you unbeta'd and so probably full of holes and mistakes as well as being on the short side. But it's been too long and I need to get it out so I can keep moving. Sorry about the wait. I was sick but I'm better and breathing again, so all is well. _

_Remember the link to the discussion and teaser thread is in my profile if you like. Come talk to me. I like it._

* * *

_Chapter 3_

_Times have changed and times are strange  
Here I come, but I ain't the same  
Mama, I'm coming home_

_ -Ozzy Osbourne_

My hands were trembling. I wiped them off on my pants, trying to dry the sweat so I wouldn't drop the phone as I was trying to dial.

I had looked up the phone number right after Mom left for work, but forced myself to wait to make the call. I didn't want to get everyone out of bed, and I had no idea of what their morning routine would be like. The call was going to be hard enough without breaking into the chaos of getting going for the day. I'd run a bubble bath and wasted time in there for as long as I could stand it. I'd forced myself to sit through one of the morning talk shows. I did everything I could think of to keep from glancing at the clock that was haunting me from the wall.

I probably averaged looking at it about once every three minutes.

I glanced at it again. It was nearly noon, almost nine am way out in Washington. Surely that was late enough to call. I was suddenly struck by the thought that I had no idea if I had cousins that had to get to school, if Aunt Emily worked outside the home, if… well anything about their lives.

I wiped my hands again and took a deep breath. It would be better to go ahead and make the call now, while I was home alone.

My fingers were clumsy, and I had to hang up and start over twice when I punched the wrong buttons. I sat in the corner of the couch, clutching a pillow to my chest like it would shield me.

I listened to the phone ringing in a house that was thousands of miles away. Suddenly, before I expected it to happen, a deep male voice said, "Hello?"

"Is…" I couldn't get my voice to work. I had to stop and swallow before I could croak out the words. "May I speak to Emily, please?"

"Sure," the voice answered and I heard a thunk as the phone was dropped and the voice called out. "Emily! Phone!"

I heard the mumble of other male voices in the background, and there was the sound of running feet. Then I heard a squeal and the sound of something hitting something else while a voice screeched "Jacob Black that is NOT funny!" and a burst of laughter. It sounded like I hadn't managed to avoid the morning chaos, but this sounded like a good kind of chaos and I found myself smiling in spite of my fears.

"Hello?" a new voice said, slightly breathless and sounding so much like my mother that I felt comforted immediately.

"Hello, Aunt Emily?" I said before I lost my nerve. "Aunt Emily? It's Claire."

"Claire?" her voice seemed to vibrate down the phone lines, and immediately all the background noise ceased. She must have stepped outside so she could hear me better.

"Umm… Your sister Cara's daughter? You haven't seen me in a long time?" Everything was coming out a question, but I couldn't help it. I was glad my voice was working at all.

"Yes Claire," her voice was warm and gentle. "I know exactly who you are. I was just surprised. It's been so long." I imagined her standing on a porch somewhere in the early morning, wearing an apron, picturing me as a baby.

"I got Mom to tell me your last name so I could look you up." I attempted to explain, but that wasn't the important part. I had to get to the point. "Aunt Emily, I… I'm sick. I'm very sick and I'd like to come and stay with you.

"I know you haven't seen me since I was a baby, but I've been thinking about it for a long time. And I understand if you say no since you don't know me an all. But I can't stay here and let my family…" I couldn't just tell her that over the phone. I took a gulp of air and continued. "I'd really appreciate it if I could come and stay with you for a while."

I heard low male voices murmuring in the background again. She must have gone back inside.

"How bad is it, Claire?" She sounded close to tears, which was strange since she didn't know me.

I sighed deeply. "It's pretty bad," my voice was quiet, but she heard me anyway.

"Well," she answered. "I think we should work on the details to get you here as soon as possible then."

I could hardly believe my ears. She was saying yes already? I'd expected phone call after phone call, having to explain things over and over, possibly not going at all. I'd never expected a yes less than 10 minutes into my first call.

"Where are you now, Claire?" I was so stunned I almost missed her question.

"Right outside of Baltimore. I'd fly out of BWI and into Seattle?" I hadn't even looked at a map to find out if there was an airport closer to La Push than that. All I knew is that it was rural.

"Port Angeles," she said absently. "Claire, how is your mother handling this idea?"

"Well," I stalled.

Emily said nothing, waiting.

"She's not thrilled with the idea, but it's nothing to do with you." I rushed to say it. "She just doesn't want me to go anywhere."

"We had a misunderstanding a long time ago," Emily said simply. "It's caused a lot more pain than it should have, but we can't change the past. We can only move forward."

There was another weighty pause.

"She's at work right now or I'm sure she'd talk to you," I said lamely.

Surprisingly, Emily chuckled at that. "She'll come around eventually," she said, like it hadn't already been nearly 18 years since their fight. She was patient, I had to give her that.

"Go ahead and make all the flight arrangements you need. We have a room here that no one is using, so I'll get it ready for you. Just let me know the details of when you're landing, and I'll come meet you."

"That simple?" I said, wondering.

"Of course Claire. You're a part of my family, more than you can even understand. I'd love to have you come home. Tomorrow, if possible."

I could barely believe my ears. How could I be more a part of her family than I could understand? I was her niece, but she was acting like I was some long lost prodigal of some sort. But that that point, I didn't want to push things. My main goal was getting there. Understanding could come later.

:-:o:-:

Uproar followed.

At least that's how it felt over the next week.

I found that it was easy to find a flight into Seattle, but not so easy to find one to Port Angeles. I called Aunt Emily to find out what I was doing wrong, when she said that someone had offered to make the drive to Seattle to get me so I didn't need to worry about that. I found out later that only the very small planes went into and out of that airport, so I was glad that I wouldn't have to be navigating my way through all of that anyway.

It was another big fight when I told them that I planned on making the trip alone, but I was firm. They had escorts who would meet me at the plane with my chair and take me to my next one, skycaps who would handle my luggage, and Aunt Emily and someone by the name of Jacob would be meeting me at the airport in Seattle. There was no need for anything else, and the goodbye would be hard enough without drawing it out that much longer.

Then Mom insisted that I have a copy of my medical records sent to the small hospital in Forks, the one nearest to La Push. I asked her if it wouldn't be easier to just send them a set of encyclopedias, but she didn't think that was very funny.

Then there were prescriptions to line up, and I had to figure out what I needed to bring with me and what to leave behind. That was much harder than I anticipated. I was glad that most of my photos of friends and family were online, so I didn't have to worry about leaving those. I didn't want to overwhelm Aunt Emily with my things when she was taking me in.

It felt like every day had some new task that we hadn't considered, and I was running all day to try to accomplish everything that needed to be done. I was exhausted, but instead of falling asleep at night I would lie there and try to imagine what life would be like on the other side of the country. It was hard to turn my brain off.

Not only did I have all the particulars to line up, we were trying to cram in all the family time we could. Mom felt guilty about the huge fight on my birthday, and had been picking up random desserts to have every night after dinner. Dad kept cutting out of work early to come home and just hang around. Amanda moved out of her apartment and back home for the rest of the semester.

The guilt at leaving them was exponential, but I had to tell myself that in any normal circumstances I would have moved out to college 2 years previous. I'd be living in a dorm, maybe not even coming home over summer break if I had a job. I might have gone to school out of state. This was a normal phase of life… I was just approaching it differently and a couple of years later than everyone else.

Leaving was awful. Let's just leave it at that.

I pleaded with them to not come to the airport with me, and I think they saw reason. They would have to leave me at the security gates anyway, and we would cause some sort of scene and traffic jam with all the goodbyes. At least they saw reason with that.

We had a party the night before, with ice cream cake and all the good stuff. Hope fell asleep on the couch trying to stay up and watch a movie one last time. I tried to hold it together as I cradled her to me, but couldn't stop the tears from rolling down my face.

I knew it wouldn't be easy, and I knew it had to be done. I was glad that they were sending me off while I was still walking, talking, functional… I knew in my heart that their memories of me would be better for it.

Dad took me to the airport. Mom couldn't handle it. Dad barely made it through.

And then they were gone, and I was on my own.

It was terrifying and exhilarating all at the same time.

I had to change planes in Salt Lake City, but it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. I simply waited until nearly everyone was off the plane to make my way down the aisle. The flight attendant carried my carry on bag for me, and the escort met me at the ramp with my chair. He was an older gentleman, and kept up a steady stream of chatter as he whisked me to my next plane, even stopping to grab a milkshake for me "since airline food was for the birds."

My plane wasn't due to board for another half hour, so he sat and talked with me while we waited.

"Do you fly often?"

"No, actually this is my first time going anywhere without my parents along."

"Well I'm glad to be of service to you then," he grinned. "I hope you don't mind me saying so, but your chair drives really well."

I laughed at that. "I guess you have some experience with different models."

"Goodness yes," he cackled. "You wouldn't believe the rickety old monsters I have to shove around some days. Like to carry some oil in my pocket for some of them. And not everyone is as light to push as you are either."

"Oh I'm a real beefcake," I said, grateful for his cheery nature. He was keeping my mind off of what I had left behind, and what I had ahead of me.

"Could have fooled me!" he crowed. "But listen, I meet all kinds in this line of work. All kinds. And not everyone is nice about it either. You seem like good people, and like you're on some new adventure. Makes a fella smile."

"I guess you could call it an adventure," I agreed with him. "I'm going to meet family that I haven't seen since I was two years old."

"Well now, that's an occasion!" He grinned as he stared off into space. "Can't imagine that myself. We're all right here. Probably could draw a circle twenty miles wide and we'd all be right in it."

"That sounds nice."

He looked at me and rolled his eyes. "It can be. It can be. But let me tell you, sometimes they get all in your business. And my sisters! They all know what's best, and sometimes what one knows the other knows the complete opposite." He shook his head ruefully, getting lost in thought.

I wondered if that was what had happened between Mom and Aunt Emily had been something like that. Maybe one of them was sure about something, and the other had been sure of the exact opposite thing, and they'd never been able to get over it.

Who knew if I'd ever know?

I fell asleep on the short flight from Salt Lake to Seattle. The flight attendant woke me once most of the passengers had left the plane, and helped me make my way to the waiting escort. I was groggy, but snapped to alert as soon as the sounds of the busy airport permeated my senses.

I was here. In Washington. I had no reason to feel so full of hope, but there it was all the same.

Aunt Emily was waiting for me at the baggage claim. Her appearance was shocking. She looked so much like mom, only shorter and rounder, and one side of her face was distorted by a twisting scar. I wondered how she'd gotten it, and if Mom knew about it.

She was accompanied by a giant. He looked like a giant anyway. After a brief moment in which he took in me and my chair, his face broke in an easy smile and he introduced himself as Jacob.

"I'm here to be your chauffer and general grunt," he said easily. "Since someone is weird about driving a long way and thought you might have a few bags." He rolled his eyes at Emily and she flapped her hand at him, laughing.

"You volunteered," she said. "Something about getting out of work I think it was?" She grinned at me. "It's so good to see you, Claire." She bent to give me a hug. Her hair smelled like flowers.

"Thanks," I said awkwardly. I didn't know how to feel when confronted by them face to face. Their easy manner was comforting, but it had been a long day and I still didn't know how I felt. It was only just after 1pm their time, but for me it was edging toward later afternoon. It felt even later because we'd had to be at the airport by 4:30, and I had barely slept the night before.

Jacob collected my bags, carrying them all easily while Aunt Emily came around to push my chair.

"Come on, Claire," she said gently. "Let's get you home."

:-:o:-:

Bumping movements caused the pain in my joints to flare up, and I woke up to find us pulling to a stop in a gravel driveway in front of a yellow house.

The house was in a clearing, but there were trees all around and I could smell the distinct scent of ocean on the breeze.

Someone had draped a jacket over me as I slept, and I was grateful for it in the late afternoon air. The sky was overcast and the air smelled damp. I remembered Mom's warnings that I should soak up the sun while I could before I left home, because I wouldn't be seeing much of it in La Push.

"Claire, honey. We're here." Aunt Emily turned and smiled at me from the front seat.

The door of the house banged, and I looked up to see a little girl running toward the car. She looked so much like Hope, only darker, I felt a lump in my throat.

"Mom! Is she here? Did you get her?" the girl asked excitedly.

"Naw, we got there and she looked a little shifty, so we left her," Jacob said as he unfolded his long body from the front seat of the car.

The girl only rolled her eyes in response. "You are soooo funny Jacob. I can't believe I forgot to laugh."

I couldn't help giggling to myself at the exchange, and turned to hoist myself out of the car. Jacob was standing there ready with my chair, but I waved him off.

"Oh no, I only use that thing when I have to," I told him. "I'm slow, but I get there eventually."

Relief washed over his face, "Oh that's good!"

I had no idea why he would be so relieved, but some people were really uncomfortable around wheelchairs, so maybe that was it.

Another two men were coming down the porch steps to the car. It seemed like all the men in La Push were giants, though the older one looked smaller than the other one. It wasn't a difference in height so much as how the older man carried himself.

Aunt Emily went to the younger man and kissed him hello, so I assumed the older man was his father, until they came closer.

Even though his hair was silver, the older man was much younger than I had assumed. In fact, his face was so young it looked like he might only be a couple of years older than I was. I wondered who he was, and why he was looking at me like he was seeing a ghost.

"Claire," Aunt Emily caught my attention from the man's eyes. "This is your Uncle Sam," the man she had kissed reached forward and shook my hand. His skin was very warm.

"And this is your cousin, Annie." The girl bobbed forward and gave me a quick hug.

"Hi," I said shyly.

"And this is Quil," she said gesturing to the other man.

He stepped forward and held his hand out as if he were afraid I wouldn't take it.

"Hello Quil," I said, taking his hand.

Two things happened at the same time.

With his touch, I felt a shock of warmth rush from my fingertips to my chest. His hand was warm like Uncle Sam's had been, but there was something more to it. It was like his body heat leaped from him into me, and for just the barest moment before his hand dropped mine, I felt warm for the first time in years.

When I said his name, he closed his eyes and took a quick breath in, and then bowed his head. He stayed still for half a second before dropping my hand and running away.

I looked to Aunt Emily in confusion, but she was looking at Uncle Sam and Jacob.

"I'll go after him," Jacob said before taking off in the direction that Quil went.

"Did I…" I was at a loss for words. I hadn't meant to offend someone before I'd even been there for five minutes. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No dear," Aunt Emily said quickly. "Quil is… He's just had a really hard time of things. You two will get to know each other better, I'm sure."

I looked in the direction the two men had run. "I guess. If he comes back here ever."

"He'll be back." Annie said as Aunt Emily wrapped her arm around my shoulders and steered me toward the house. "He has to. Quil lives here too."


	4. 4: A strange feeling of belonging

_Thank you Spotzle for being my beta, and reassuring me when I worry that it might be too short. Blame my high school English teacher for the word economy. She had us honed to being able to write three solid essays in an hour, and now, even more than 12 (gulp) years later, the habit persists. Oh and the song is Elderly Woman Behind the Counter in a Small Town... still one of my all time favorite tunes.  
_

* * *

_Chapter 4_

_I seem to recognize your face  
Haunting, familiar, yet I cant seem to place it  
Cannot find the candle of thought to light your name  
Lifetimes are catching up with me_

_-Pearl Jam_

Aunt Emily steered me toward the house, slowing her pace to match mine.

"You go on ahead," I told her. "It will take me a minute, and I need to wake up still anyway." I smiled at her reassuringly. "We probably have to figure out what's for dinner anyway."

"No we don't," Annie answered as Aunt Emily dropped her arm from around my shoulders. "I talked Dad into calling out for pizza. He was going to make grilled cheese, but I reminded him of what happened the last time he tried that." She burst out laughing.

"What happened then?"

"We could have built a house with those bricks. I'm surprised the fire department didn't show up."

Aunt Emily chuckled and put a hand on her hip. "And you couldn't help him make something?"

"And miss out on pizza? No way." Annie grinned saucily at Aunt Emily, who just laughed and walked up to the house.

I liked Annie. She was feisty in a way that Hope wasn't.

"So you're my cousin, huh?" I asked her as we began walking slowly again toward the front porch.

Her smile was bright. "Yep. I've been waiting to meet you for _weeks_ now."

"How old are you?"

"I'm eleven," she said proudly. "Old enough to stay home by myself during the day and almost old enough to babysit."

"Oh yeah," I said, pausing at the foot of the steps. "There's good money in babysitting."

I bit my lip as I contemplated the task ahead of me. Three little steps to the porch. The house was one level, so this was my only problem.

"Are you okay?" Annie asked. She had started up the steps without a pause, and was confused when I was no longer beside her.

"Yes," I said quickly. "I just have a little problem with my joints. My knees don't love it when I go up and down stairs."

I clenched my teeth as I gripped the railing. Getting my foot up on the step was easy. The problem came when it was time to shift my weight up.

"Want a hand?"

I looked up to find that another giant had appeared by my side. He looked like he was near my age, possibly the same age as Jacob. He cracked a smile.

"Hey Embry," Annie said casually, as if huge men appearing out of nowhere was an every day occurrence.

"I'm Embry Call," he said stooping and wrapping one arm carefully around my waist. Before I knew it I was standing on the porch. He'd gotten me up there one handed and put me down so gently I didn't feel any extra pain.

"Wow, thanks," I said impressed.

"Hey," Jacob's voice came through the door. "I thought _I_ was the grunt around here."

"You snooze you lose, bro," Embry answered with a grin, swinging the door open and giving him some sort of high five hand shake that guys always seem to do.

"Wait a minute, I thought you went after Quil?" I asked Jacob. Did it really take me that long to get to the house from the driveway?

"I did. He's running but he'll be back in time for dinner," he said, looking at me closely.

"Oh," I let it drop. I had no idea why I was so concerned with Quil, but I felt bad about how things had gone with our meeting. Maybe he was one of those types who had a hard time dealing with sick people. It was a pretty common thing. I ran into it all the time.

We walked into the kitchen where I gratefully sat down in one of the chairs that Emily offered. I looked around at the huge men, and the not so huge but still a lot taller than me woman, and tried to make the connections.

"Okay, Mom never told me much about my family around here. Can you all please explain how we're related?" I finally gave up.

General laughter broke out, and I couldn't help joining in.

"Well Claire," Jacob began seriously. "Emily is your aunt. That's because she's your mommy's sister."

He ducked as Aunt Emily whacked him over the head with a wooden spoon. She was tossing a salad that looked big enough to feed an army. How many people were coming over for dinner, anyway?

"Annie is our only child, so she's your only cousin. Peanut brain here, and Embry and Quil work with Sam. And please don't call me Aunt Emily. Just Emily is fine. It makes me feel old to think of you calling me Aunt." She smiled and went to get a stack of bowls from the cabinet.

"Do you live here too?" I asked Embry and Jacob. I remembered that first call, all the background noise made it seem like the house was packed with people, and I wondered if it was always that way.

"Practically," Annie muttered.

"We share an apartment not too far from here," Embry answered me while Jacob poked at Annie. "But neither one of us can cook so we end up here a lot."

"But Quil lives here?" I continued to try to piece things together. Why would one of Sam's co-workers live in his house?

"Yeah, Mom made him move in a long time ago, before I was even born," Annie replied.

"Oh," I said again and waited, but no one elaborated. Everyone was suddenly occupied with something else. I stared around, but no one was looking back. It was like there was some secret that I didn't know about, but I didn't want to ask anymore. I was the new one here, and if it mattered I'd learn about it with time.

"Pizza's here," Embry said, hopping up to go to the door.

I didn't hear anything, but a few moments later I heard the noise of tires on the gravel driveway. I must have been more tired than I thought.

I excused myself to the bathroom, and Annie volunteered to show me the way. She gave me a quick tour, pointing out who had what bedroom and where the linen closet was in case I wanted a shower before bed. I was surprised to find that I had a small bathroom with a shower stall off of my room.

"Mom and Dad used to be in this room, but they added on a bigger room off the living room a couple of years ago so you get this one," Annie explained.

"I didn't kick you out of your room, did I?"

"No it was always the guest room. Mom tried to make Quil move in here but he didn't want to, and I didn't want it because it's too bright in here in the morning." She grinned sheepishly at me. "Sorry about that. I hope you're a morning person."

"It's perfect," I assured her. The shower stall would be easier to navigate than a bathtub would be, especially once we went to a pharmacy and picked up another shower chair.

I followed her back down the hall to the kitchen, where a small mountain of pizza boxes had been placed on the table next to the salad. I looked around expecting to see more people, but the only person who hadn't been there when we left was Quil. He was sitting quietly in a chair, not joining in the banter that was flying back and forth between Emily, Sam, Jacob, and Embry.

I tried to look at him without looking at him while the pizza and salad was passed around. He seemed so familiar, but I couldn't figure out why. I knew I'd never met him before, but maybe he resembled someone I used to know? Or maybe he looked like someone famous around his eyes? I couldn't place it. I didn't get that feeling from Jacob or Embry, and he resembled them more than he did anyone else. But I couldn't shake the feeling that I knew him from somewhere.

But that was impossible.

Frustrated, I shook some tablets out of my pill box and downed them quickly with a gulp of water.

"What were those?" Annie asked.

"Enzymes," I told her. "They're supposed to help me digest my food better."

"Do they work?" Quil asked. His voice was very low and gravelly, like he needed to clear his throat.

I felt my ears go red and warm as a hush fell over the room. I didn't know that they would all be interested in my various pills and potions.

"Not really," I managed to croak out, glancing up at him quickly before focusing back on my pizza.

Everyone started talking again at once, like they realized that they'd all stopped and were rushing to fill the silence. No one seemed to notice that Quil didn't say another word. He barely ate anything either, which was odd compared to Jacob, Embry, and Sam. I think they each had a pizza to themselves, plus extra slices. I think _I_ ate more than he did, and that's saying something.

:-:o:-:

It felt like the meal was over quickly, but when I glanced at the clock on the kitchen stove I saw that over an hour had passed.

"Oh!" I said without thinking.

"Something wrong?" Emily asked quickly.

"No, I just haven't called Mom yet to let her know that I'm here safely, and she's probably wondering what's going on," I reassured her, excusing myself to make my way back to my room.

Everyone began to get up from the table after that, brushing off my attempts to help clean up.

"You go on and call your mom," Emily told me. "We'll get this."

I went back down the hall to my new room, pausing in the door to look back down toward the kitchen. I could hear the good natured talking and laughter as they picked up the remains of the feast, and the sounds were warm and friendly. It made home seem that much more quiet to me.

Mom answered the phone on the first ring, "Claire?"

"Hi Mom, sorry I didn't call right away. We just got done with dinner and I fell asleep in the car on the way here so my brain wasn't turned on all the way."

"Are you doing okay? Was the flight all right?"

"The flight was fine, and Aunt Emily met me at the airport with this guy named Jacob. He drove us back but I fell asleep in the back seat so I didn't pay attention to how long it took to get here.

"Everyone is so nice, Mom. Uncle Sam is a giant, and some of his coworkers were here and they were huge too." I laughed. "Makes me feel like even more of a shrimp."

"They were kind to you though?"

"Sure they were Mom. The house is all one floor, but there are a few steps to get up to the porch. One of them helped me get up, no questions asked. It's like they don't care about what I can't do or anything. It's nice."

"That's good." Her voice was relieved. Had she been worried about how they would treat me?

We chatted a bit longer about my flight and how things were at home, and then I begged off the phone, saying that I needed a shower and bed, even though it was still early.

Emily came knocking as I was digging some pajamas out of my suitcase, and offered to help me unpack.

Together, we hung my clothing in the closet and filled up the dresser drawers. It was almost like having Mom around, and I wondered again what could have separated them for all this time. They seemed so much alike, it was hard to imagine what could do that. It was like me going without speaking to Amanda for years. It was impossible to fathom.

Maybe my being here would bring them back together again.

I was so exhausted that I thought I would fall asleep right away, but instead I lay there listening as the house quieted around me.

The murmur of voices from the kitchen and living room died away, and I heard the water running in the bathroom next to my room as someone took a shower. The gentle sound of rain hitting my window should have lulled me to sleep, but I couldn't turn my brain off.

Now that I had time to think, I was surprised at how at home I felt in a place that I'd never been before. I'd expected to spend the first few nights at least crying myself to sleep for missing my family. But all I felt was expectation and what tomorrow would bring.

Sure, I missed them all terribly, especially my sisters. But I knew they were doing well and were happy, so it didn't seem too awful to be far away from them.

Instead, my mind kept returning to Quil.

There was something about him. I couldn't put my finger on it, but I felt like there was more there than was rational.

For one thing, he was young. He couldn't be much older than I was. I'd first pegged him as an old man because of his silver hair and his stooped posture, but his face was young and unlined. His movements were quick and sure. And he'd gone for a run. Obviously his body was healthy enough for that kind of activity.

I thought about how my eyes had kept returning to him during dinner, and how it always felt that I'd just missed him looking at me. He didn't say a word other than when he asked me if my enzymes worked, not to me or to anyone else at the table. It was like there was some sort of wall between him and the rest of the world. But he seemed more _there_ than anyone else.

No one noticed, or commented anyway, on how he didn't talk and didn't eat, which made me think that it was normal for him. And Emily had said that he'd had a really hard time of things. What things? And why did I care so much?

Maybe I was looking for some sort of connection since I was in a new place so far from everyone and everything that I knew. Maybe it was me looking for some sort of anchor when I felt so adrift. But it was almost like he was just as broken as I was, only in some other way. And that didn't make sense at all.

I sighed and turned on my side to try to fall asleep. It was a bad idea to dwell on someone whom I had just met. Especially someone near my age and male. And if I had to dwell on someone, trust me to pick the only someone who was probably the one person who had a hard time with someone who was dealing with an illness, instead of Jacob or Embry. Neither one of them had seemed to care much one way or the other if I was sick or not.

I punched my pillow. The bed was insanely comfortable, so it wasn't the reason I had a hard time drifting off. It was just me obsessing over some guy who had barely looked at me and only spoke three words.

But I couldn't help wondering… what was behind that wall? And why did it feel like I needed to know more than anything I'd ever needed before?

* * *

_Why yes, I did send out a piece of trivia last chapter. I decided to try that instead of wracking my brain trying to figure out what to say in review replies. I never know what to say unless I'm answering a question. :) Glad you enjoyed it!_

_The amazing beta Spotzle suggested I send out a quick peek at Quil instead of a trivia bit this time, so I will probably do that. It will be short, but since I intend to keep this story in Claire's point of view, maybe that will satisfy? Of course the peek will also be put into the discussion thread over on twilighted, so you can find it there if you don't have time to leave a review. Just give me a day or so to write it. _


	5. 5: I won't die alone

Chapter 5

_But you. You _

_make me think that _

_maybe I won't die alone._

_-Ingrid Michaelson_

That night I slept for a thousand years.

That's what it felt like anyway. I was amazed to open my eyes to the bright light of day and see that it was past 9:00am. That was past noon back at home. Even without the time difference I never slept so late, and _never_ straight through the night. The pain in my joints, especially my hips, was usually such that I woke myself several times a night when I changed position in my sleep.

I must have been extremely tired to have managed that.

I flexed my arm experimentally, wincing at the movement. Yep, the raging pain was present and accounted for, but I'd managed to escape it for an entire night. That was pretty impressive. I should fly across the country more often.

I lay in bed for a few more minutes, just enjoying the way the sun slanted through the windows. I smiled to myself to think that at least my first full day here would have some sunlight in it, even if most of the days would be dark and rainy. It seemed like a confirmation of the rightness of my decision to come here.

I don't know if it was the bright light or the solid night of sleep that I'd just experienced, but as I gazed around my new room everything seemed more there. More solid or permanent in some way than things had ever seemed before. Like there was more doorness to the door, or the chair was more chair than any other chair before it.

It's difficult to explain.

It was nearly the quality that I'd noticed many times before, when I was awake with one light on in the middle of the night and everyone else in the world was asleep. The quietness of the house, the stillness always felt so solid to me. But this was the bright light of day and everything felt like a superreality without having that added unearthly air that the middle of the night seemed to impart.

I wondered if maybe my blood sugar was off or something. That might explain it. In any case, it was late and I needed to get moving before I wasted what might be the only sunlit day I'd see for weeks.

I flung back the blankets with a groan and dressed myself as quickly as I could. My jeans had gotten too big again and sagged on my hips, but I didn't think anyone would know the difference. I looked in the mirror and grimaced at my hair. Amanda was no longer around to help hide the thin spots. Sighing, I decided that it wasn't worth spending the time to try and figure it out and pulled it back in a clip at the nape of my neck.

If everyone here was going to have to witness me fading away, I was going to have to eventually give up my pretenses. Might as well let a little go at a time.

I wandered down the hall to the kitchen. The house was quiet, and I found a note on the kitchen table.

_Claire,_

_Gone to take Annie to school and run errands. Fruit and milk are in the fridge. Bread on the counter. Cereal is in the cabinet. Ask Quil if you need help. Be back before lunch._

_-Emily_

My stomach gave a little jolt when I read Quil's name, and I had to laugh at how silly I was being. I had focused on him way too much if just reading his name did that. It didn't sound like he was home at the moment anyway.

I poked around in the cabinets until I found the bowls and cereal, and poured myself a quick breakfast. I looked around the still kitchen, and decided to carry it out to the porch to eat it. It was just too quiet inside. I couldn't even hear a ticking clock.

I stopped short at the front door, just barely keeping myself from squeaking aloud when I realized that I wasn't home alone after all. If I thought my stomach jolted at reading Quil's name… It turned a complete somersault and took up residence near my feet.

Quil was sitting on the front porch steps, his elbows draped across his knees as he stared into the distance. He didn't look like he'd been off running again, unless he went running in old jeans and bare feet. His t-shirt was pulled tight across his back, and I could see the lines of his defined muscles through it. I was again struck by the incongruity of his young body, but seemingly aged way of holding himself and his silvery white hair.

I hesitated, not wanting to interrupt his thoughts but not wanting to stay inside the house by myself either. Telling myself that I was being silly once again for building him up in my mind, I decided that I could go sit on the porch swing. That would be far enough away from the steps that I wouldn't feel like I was intruding so much.

His shoulders stiffened slightly when I opened the door, and he glanced at me swiftly before turning his eyes back to look across the clearing in front of the house.

I made my way to the swing and sat carefully down on it to eat my cereal.

"Good morning," I said, trying to be polite. There was something in his eyes when he'd glanced at me that put me even more at ease, and I no longer felt like I would be bothering him by sitting there. But I didn't want him to feel like I was ignoring him either.

He looked at me again, briefly, and nodded in response.

We sat in silence while I finished my cereal, but it wasn't uncomfortable. I remembered thinking the night before that Quil didn't talk much, if at all, and I wasn't one to spout off idle chatter just to fill up the air.

I ate quickly, and went to take my dishes back into the house. Quil quickly stood up, walking to open and hold the door for me before I could even get there.

"Thank you," I said, impressed.

He just nodded again, following me quietly into the kitchen. He leaned against the counter while I rinsed my bowl and stowed it in the dishwasher. His expression was completely relaxed, like he didn't have anything to do all day but stand there in the kitchen with me.

I stood there, drying my hands on a towel left on the countertop, and looked around the quiet house. I had no idea what to do with myself. Emily had helped me unpack the night before, so I didn't need to do that. I had no idea if there were any household chores that I should help with, but I didn't see a thing out of place.

I looked at Quil again. "I have no idea what to do now," I confessed, laughing nervously.

"We could walk," he suggested. His voice was as gravelly as it had been at dinner the night before, like he needed to clear his throat. It was a rumble that I could almost feel in the pit of my chest, and it made me want to press my ear against him so I could feel the vibration. My ears heated up at the thought.

"Umm…" I turned away to look out the window before he could notice my embarrassment and tried to surreptitiously bend my knees to test them. They ached, but they weren't on fire. As long as we kept a slower pace they should be alright. "It is a nice day out there. As long as the ground is mostly flat?"

He nodded.

"Okay."

He started for the back door.

"Umm, Quil? Don't you need shoes?"

He stopped abruptly and looked down at his feet with a strange expression on his face, and then turned down the hall to his room.

I hastily scribbled a note to Emily on the back of the one she'd left for me in case she came home while we were gone.

Quil returned wearing a pair of ratty old tennis shoes that had definitely seen better days. He must run them to death before he buys a new pair. He went to the back door and stood there patiently holding it open for me while I grabbed my jacket that Emily had hung in the hall closet.

"Thanks," I said again. He was certainly chivalrous.

Emily and Sam had a deck on the back of their house, and there was a small bit of yard before the tree line. I could see a path leading into the trees, which was probably our destination. I paused, confronted by steps once again, but Quil seemed to have heard about my difficulties. Before I could even test myself going down them, I felt his hands on my waist and I was flying through the air only to be placed gently on the ground. I couldn't suppress a small yelp of surprise.

Quil dropped his hands quickly and moved away, and I felt suddenly chilled where his hands had rested, even though they'd been on top of my jacket and shirt. He had some kind of body heat thing going on.

"Thanks," I said breathlessly. "But warn a girl next time." I rubbed my chest where my heart was pounding furiously.

He just looked at me sheepishly. "Sorry," he whispered.

"No it's ok. You just startled me." I wanted to reassure him. I was so used to people trying to protect me, but here was someone who seemed to need a little protection back. It was strange, because he was so big. But there it was all the same.

"Where are we going?" I asked after the awkward pause had passed.

He gestured to the trail, and I fell in beside him. We weren't touching, and weren't even that close together, but I could feel heat coming off of him like he was a radiator. He hadn't even put on a jacket over his t-shirt.

"Do you have a fever or something? Or are you always warm?"

"Just warm."

We entered the tree line, and the sudden hush of the forest surrounded us. The only sounds were our breathing, and the whisper of my jacket as I walked. The air was damp and smelled green with growing things. The sunlight barely filtered through the branches, only reaching the ground here and there in small pools of light.

After about ten minutes of walking, I began to hear a rhythmic noise. It sounded familiar, but I couldn't place it. I looked up at Quil to ask him, but he looked lost in thought and I didn't want to pull him out of it.

My legs were starting to burn with the effort of keeping going, when I saw a break in the trees ahead. I could see the blue sky beyond them, but it was too much blue for too far. Then I realized what the rhythmic noise was… water.

Our trail came out on another one that ran along the edge of a cliff. There were large boulders near the edge, and then a sheer drop off to the sea below. Other larger boulders rested at intervals out in the water, and the waves would slam into them, shooting spay into the air. In the sunlight, rainbows would briefly appear and then vanish as the spray died away. Far out on the horizon, a dark line of blue showed were the ocean met the sky.

I was awestruck. It was beautiful.

I leaned against one of the boulders to rest, still entranced by the glory of nature in front of me. Quil wordlessly held out his hand, and I reached out to take it. He gently lifted me to sit on one of the smaller rocks, in a spot that was hallowed out like a bench, and then walked around to sit on the other side.

I couldn't say a word. The place was too wonderful. Almost sacred in a way.

It made my belly swoop to lean and peek over the edge, even though we were too far away from it to actually fall. The breeze blew the stray hairs that had escaped my clip back from my face, cooling the light sweat from my exertions and carrying the scent of brine and fish on it. Sea birds were gliding and wheeling, uttering their wordless cries as they went about the business of their day.

The shoreline curved around us, and the rock on which we sat was on a spit of land that jutted out farther than the rest of the cliff. Far down the beach to the left, I could see signs of human habitation. To the right was unbroken wilderness. It was like we were the only two people in the world.

I turned to Quil to thank him for bringing me there, but the words died in my throat.

His face was turned up to the sun. His eyes were closed and his dark lashes rested against his cheekbones while the ghost of a smile played across his lips. His hair glinted in the light of the sun, and he was taking in deep breaths of the breeze that washed over us. He looked completely at peace for the first time that I'd seen.

It was the kind of peace I'd been searching for all of my life.

I turned my own face up to the sky, closing my eyes and feeling the warmth on my face. The sound of the surf intensified, and was answered by the sounds of the wind going through the trees behind us. Every gust brought a new discovery along with it, and I leaned back on my hands so I could turn my face more fully into it. I felt cleansed by the crispness of the wind and the sun, like some sort of pollution was being washed out of my lungs as I breathed in all that was fresh and good.

I missed the beauty though, and opened my eyes once again to the brightness. The greens were deeper than any that I'd seen before. The blues of the sky and see were unending. It was as if nature had conspired to show me its best face here on my first day, so I could carry this with me through the clouds ahead.

We must have sat there for hours. We didn't talk. We just were.

I knew he wouldn't leave me there, and wouldn't go until I asked. It might have been selfish of me to stay there for so long, but I could only tear myself away when my stomach began to rumble too loudly to ignore.

I finally turned to ask him if we should go, but he was already getting down and coming back to help me off my seat. He grasped my waist again, and I held to his wrists as he lifted me down. That shock of heat traveled up my arms again as I touched his skin, the same has it had when I shook his hand for the first time, but he didn't seem to notice, and let me go quickly once I was steady on my feet again.

Our journey back to the house seemed shorter than the way there, and my knees didn't bother me nearly as much as I thought they would. The heat from the sun must have soaked into them, doing them some good. I would have to spend most of the afternoon resting though, to make up for all of the walking.

Emily was home when we got there, and Quil once again lifted me up the stairs to the deck.

"There you are! I was beginning to wonder?" Emily smiled at us and looked meaningfully at Quil. He shook his head. I had no idea what that was about, and looked curiously between them, but neither of them looked my way.

Shrugging, I answered her. "We went down that trail. Did you find my note?"

She turned to me. "Yes I found it. It's just after noon now so I didn't know if you'd taken some lunch with you."

"No, that would have been a good idea though on a day like today." I was almost ready to grab something and head right back out to that rock. "I just walk slowly, so it probably took us longer than Quil thought it would."

I followed Emily into the house and into the kitchen, where she had a stack of sandwiches waiting on the table.

"I thought you said you didn't know if we took lunch with us?" I asked, sitting down and picking one up.

"It's never a waste making sandwiches around here. If you didn't eat them, one of the p… guys would show up."

We ate lunch quickly, and then Emily asked if I needed to go to town for anything. I mentioned needing a chair for the shower, and soon found myself back in the car with her on my way to a pharmacy, with Quil riding along in the back seat.

I couldn't imagine what he would need at the pharmacy, but my question was answered as he disappeared into a hardware store next door.

It didn't take long to find what we were looking for, and I was also able to check that my prescription information had made the journey across the country as well.

Quil was leaning against Emily's car waiting for us as we emerged from the pharmacy. He quickly relieved her of the box my stool was in, and stowed it in the trunk before opening my door for me. I tried to suppress a smile. Either he was very chivalrous or he thought I was ill enough that opening doors would be beyond my strength. But then he took me for a long walk that morning, so it had to be chivalrous. I nodded to myself.

Emily looked at me with questions in her eyes, but I didn't answer her.

Once we were home, we saw why Quil had gone into the hardware store. He went to the trunk and took out the box with my shower chair along with another wooden stool. It had a back to it and a foot rest.

He disappeared into the house with our purchases, and returned just as I reached the porch, lifting me up without a word. He then nodded to both of us, and took off in a loping run down the driveway.

I was tired, but followed Emily into the kitchen to see if there was anything I could do to help out. I stopped short in the doorway as I saw that Quil had placed the stool in there, next to a stretch of countertop. It was the perfect height for anything that would need to be done, and fit under the overhanging lip when it wasn't in use.

My eyes flooded with tears as I realized that he'd gotten it just for me.

:-:o:-:

The rest of the afternoon passed peacefully.

Emily ushered me out of the kitchen to take a nap. In my emotional state, I didn't argue with her. I awoke slightly stiff, but refreshed.

Annie had returned home from school while I slept, her bright chatter a definite contrast to the quiet morning I'd spent with Quil.

I sat at the counter on my new stool and helped her snap acres of beans while Emily bustled around the kitchen working on other dishes for our dinner.

Random men popped in an out all evening, all of them stopping to eat something, which explained the massive amounts of food. I cringed to think of Emily's grocery bill. Annie nonchalantly introduced me to all of them, but I couldn't remember any of their names, and she only laughed when I asked her if all Quileute males were giants.

They were all huge though, and very friendly. They treated me like they'd known me for years, joking and teasing. It was really nice, and added to my feelings of being at home that had been growing all day.

Quil was absent for the evening. I assumed he was out doing whatever job it was that he did because Sam wasn't around either. I tried to stay up for a while, hoping to be able to say goodnight to both of them, but finally had to admit defeat and turn in.

I couldn't help thinking of him as I settled in to my bed once more. Our morning together had been so quiet. We'd hardly said anything at all, and I could probably count the number of words I'd heard Quil say in total on my fingers with some to spare. But there was something about him…

At first I'd thought that he was one of those people who was uncomfortable with anyone who was dealing with illness, because after our first meeting he'd taken off running. I still didn't know why he'd done that but it didn't matter as much to me. He'd proven otherwise today with his wordless concern.

It was almost like that feeling of belonging to a family, that same feeling that I'd gotten that evening hanging around in the kitchen with all of the people coming in and out of the house, was stronger when he was around. And I had that feeling even when he was the only one around.

It was like I was _supposed_ to be there. It reinforced the rightness of my decision to leave my own family to come to La Push. It was like, no matter what, he would always be there.

That was one of my big fears about staying at home with my family as I got weaker. That they wouldn't be able to handle it. That I wouldn't be able to handle letting them see me go through it. That they'd back away or I would push them away and in the end it would be me and whatever hospice nurse and that would be it.

But here, none of it seemed to matter. My time was limited, and everyone knew it, and they were pulling me in anyway. And I was letting myself be pulled in. I couldn't stop myself even if I tried.

I felt selfish, but so comforted at the same time. It went unspoken, but I knew it as well as if Quil had actually said the words. No matter what, even if it was selfish and too much to handle, he would be there anyway. He wouldn't let me die alone.

* * *

_Hey y'all! I've been nominated for another Twilighted award! Wooo hoo! It's for my post-Eclipse story Waiting for Dawn, and it's up in the Best Alternate Breaking Dawn category. Stop by and read all the wonderful stories that have been nominated. It seems trite to say, but it really is an honor to be nominated. It means that y'all think of me and think I write something worth while! So thank you! A link to the Twilighted awards is in my profile._


	6. 6: Stasis

_I've gotten a lot of PMs and such asking if Jacob has imprinted on Renesmee in this story. I've talked about this on the thread at Twilighted, but this story is completely AU. I have to ignore Breaking Dawn entirely because in that story Claire is playing with Quil on the beach. And Renaynay wasn't my favorite, so this way I don't have to mess with her. Jacob has not imprinted on anyone, but he's more like his old self because 18 years have gone by and he saw what the broken imprint did to Quil. It made him realize that his own pining for Bella was piddly in comparison, and snapped him right out of it._

_Come on over to Twilighted and talk with me. The thread is pretty quiet these days. _

_And, in case I haven't said it before... Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. I'm just bending these characters to my own twisted will._

* * *

Chapter 6

_I go nowhere high  
Go nowhere warm  
Until I see your smile and feel your calm  
And I lick a dime  
I crave for you boy  
You're like a parachute descending from the sky_

_-Kate Havenik_

The days fell into a kind of pattern after that. I started sleeping at night for the first time in my memory. Probably three nights out of five I'd wake in surprise to find it already morning. The bed was comfortable, but not that comfortable. The feeling of superreality persisted, but no one could give me an explanation.

Annie just giggled when I speculated that La Push must have some sort of magic. Or maybe it was magnetics. I wasn't going to quibble. I was feeling rested for the first time in forever.

I'd wake in the mornings and Emily would usually be already gone running errands and taking Annie to school. Quil would be there though, sometimes joined by some of the other men who came by so frequently. We'd pass our mornings quietly unless someone else was there, just being around each other. There was usually a load of laundry to fold, or the dishwasher to unload, or some small menial task.

I didn't try to break through his shell. There was something about him that made me feel like he would open up when he was ready, and just being around him was so calming that I felt like I couldn't ask for much more anyway.

Sometimes I would catch him looking at me, and I'd feel caught in his deep brown eyes until he'd look away. It always made my heart pound when he did that, but I loved it when it happened.

Emily would return home in time for lunch, and I would end up falling asleep at some point in the afternoon. I'd wake from my nap to help in the kitchen, visit through the evening, and then take myself off to bed when I couldn't hold my eyes open any longer.

Before I knew it, a month had gone by. It was shocking when I realized it. I'd expected to be gradually losing my grip on the world by that time, but La Push seemed to exist in almost its own place in time. The superreality covered over my whole existence, and the constraints of my old life no longer applied.

One of the compromises I'd made with my mother was a monthly appointment at the hospital in Forks. I didn't have to have any new treatments, we'd agreed to that, but she wanted a way to track my progress. Or I guess in my case, my decline.

That was why when Jacob and Embry arrived bright and early one morning, they found Emily still home and cooking massive amounts of pancakes.

"What's this, a weekend breakfast on a Tuesday?" Jacob grinned widely. "To what do we owe this pleasure?"

"Don't ask, maybe it will happen again," replied Embry as he heaped a stack of the hot cakes onto his plate.

"You can thank Claire for this one." Emily turned and winked at me.

"What, are the Corn Flakes losing their flair?" Jacob teased.

I rolled my eyes at him. "No. I've been here a month."

"So you needed a special anniversary breakfast?"

I resisted the urge to throw my napkin at him. "No, I promised my mom that once a month I'd go to the hospital so the vampires can suck my blood."

I'd seen many spit takes on TV, but they were a lot funnier on the screen than they were in real life.

Quil made a noise that sounded like the milk he was drinking got caught somewhere between his throat and his nose before spraying it everywhere, coughing and choking. His large hands gripped the table as he fought to regain control of his breathing.

"Hang on, old man," Embry said, whacking him on the back. "Get it out."

Quil waved Embry's helping hands away and clutched at the edge of the table again. His eyes were red and streaming as he looked at me. "What?" he croaked, gasping for air.

I looked back at him, wide eyed over his choking fit and stammered. "I – I have to go have blood tests done. Mom wouldn't let me come here until I agreed to it. She just wants to be able to keep track of how I'm doing." I looked around, bewildered, until Jacob started chuckling under his breath.

"I didn't mean to choke you," I said to Quil. "Amanda and I always called them vampires or the blood suckers. We were trying to keep it light so Hope wouldn't worry about me so much."

"It's okay Claire. You didn't do anything. Quil must have just swallowed wrong when you were talking," Emily reassured me while looking meaningfully at him.

Quil nodded weakly. "Sorry," he rasped, but he wouldn't meet my eyes.

I looked around uncertainly in the unnatural quiet of the kitchen. But then Jacob cleared his throat and launched into a story involving some of the guys and a rusted out old car they were trying to get working.

Soon after that, the three men got up to leave. I watched them uncertainly as they got into Jacob's car and took off down the driveway. I hadn't asked him, but for some reason I'd assumed the Quil would be coming to the hospital with me. Maybe because we spent every morning together, or maybe because he was always there.

I leaned against the frame of the window as they drove away, feeling a little empty as the car turned onto the road with a bump.

"Claire?" Emily pulled me from my thoughts. "Are you about ready to go?"

"Yeah," I sighed. "Emily, what is it about Quil?" I asked her before I thought about it fully. I'd resolved before to just wait and see how things came about, but his leaving when I'd expected him to stay jarred me.

I heard her chair scrape across the floor as she scooted it away from the table. She didn't answer right away, and I wondered if I'd overstepped some sort of boundary by asking. She seemed to be very protective of her family. I turned around to look at her.

She was studying me carefully, as if she were assessing me in some way. "What do you mean by that question?" she finally asked me.

I didn't know quite what I meant, because it had just popped out of my mouth, so I seized on the first thing that crossed my mind. "Well… he just seems so… He never talks or anything, and he…" I ran out of words and trailed off, shrugging my shoulders.

How could I explain that such a large man seemed so vulnerable but also made me feel safer than I'd ever felt in my life? Even without words. How could I explain that his leaving left me empty in a way I couldn't quite understand? I felt like there was more to him, _to us,_ than met the eye, but I had nothing to base this feeling on.

She pursed her lips, thinking. "Quil," she began and then sighed. "Quil went through a very hard time. He was hurt very badly, and he pulled away from everyone. It's hard for him to trust. You just have to be patient with him."

I felt like I had been patient. We'd spent almost every morning for the past month together, and I hadn't pushed him at all. "I just thought that he might…" I floundered. "That today he might come, too," I said lamely. I didn't want to bring up the empty feelings.

"Oh Claire," she said coming to the window to hug me gently. "It's hard for him to know what to do here. He's becoming your friend, and it's incredibly hard for him to deal with the fact that your time may be limited." Her voice was soft in my hair, and I clung to her like she would keep me from sinking through the floor.

"It's selfish of me," I muttered.

"No, Claire," she straightened her arms, holding me by the shoulders so she could look down into my eyes. "It's natural. The two of you are drawn together. It's just hard to know how to deal with all of this." Her expression was serious as she studied me. "He's just as lost as you are."

I nodded at her, tears dropping from my eyes. Lost was a good way to put it. I had only known him for a month, but I felt lost without him. And if I felt that way, maybe he felt it, too. And maybe he needed to pull away from anything that would remind him that I was sick. I know I'd do that if I had the option.

"I need to get my jacket." I pulled away from Emily. "We'll be late."

She released me and we collected our things and went out to the car.

I leaned against the window as we drove down the blacktop highway to Forks, mulling over what she had said. Why would the two of us be particularly drawn together, and why did everyone act like it was an inevitable thing? Was it because we were nearly the same age, and living in the same house? Was it because my body was breaking down and he had been through some sort of mental trauma, so we could connect in some way?

I didn't understand. I didn't understand anything.

Maybe one day I would buck up the courage and bring the topic up with him directly.

:-:o:-:

The hospital in Forks was much smaller than the places I had been in the past, but it was larger than I expected it to be. We stopped in the lab first, so they could take my blood samples and run them before the appointments that I had. It didn't take long at all, and I was impressed with the lack of waiting time.

After that, we whiled away some time in the gift shop, browsing until it was time to meet with the doctor who would be tracking my case.

Finally, we made our way over to his area of the hospital and got checked in with the appropriate desk. I filled out the necessary paperwork while Emily chatted with the receptionist, and shortly after that someone came out to show me to an exam room.

I changed into the requisite cotton gown with no back, and sat on the crinkly paper of the table. The nurse was kind enough to provide me with a blanket so I wouldn't get too chilled. I didn't bother telling her that I was always cold. The blanket provided more modesty.

The doctor who had been assigned me was named Cheney, and was a woman. She was very gentle as she listened and tapped on my chest, and careful as she went through the simple tests to check my range of motion. It appeared that she had studied my case before I arrived, and was familiar with where I was and what was going on with me. That was really nice. I hadn't been looking forward to explaining things.

"Well, Claire," she said flipping through my chart so she could make a few comparisons. "You've not lost any of your range of motion at all. In fact, I think you might have improved by a degree or two. That's pretty good," she tapped a small card down the info written on the paperwork in front of her. "Your lungs sound clear, too."

"Any new pain?" she asked.

"Not that I've noticed."

"How about rest, are you resting well?"

"Yes. I'm actually resting better here than I did at home. I sleep all night over half the time." I laughed. "Must be the Pacific air." Or magic.

She smiled at me. "Maybe so, or it's the dim lighting." She flipped through the papers she had on her clipboard once again. "Your lab results from today weren't up last time I checked. Let me go grab a computer and check again. I'll be right back."

She returned quickly with a small laptop balanced on her forearm, and a puzzled look on her face.

"Is something wrong?" I asked before she could say anything. My stomach was hanging out somewhere near my neck.

"Nooo…" she looked up briefly and then back at the screen. "It's just a little… unexpected."

I scooted to the edge of the table, getting ready to step down, but she moved over so she was standing next to me and I could see the screen.

"You see," she said, using her pen to point to the columns of results. "From your records I expected to see some sort of change, possibly a need to get you set up with dialysis if that's what you wanted."

I followed her pen down the line with my eyes. CBC, protein, BUN, creat and crit… So many things to see in my blood and urine, like my body could be inventoried and cataloged for convenience. But then I paid attention to the numbers.

In a month, none of them had changed. They were almost exactly the same.

"What?" My throat clicked and I had to swallow to try talking again. "What does this mean?" Hope was flailing wildly in my chest, and I tried to tamp it down before it could take over and I ran down the hallway sobbing.

Dr. C. put down the computer and put her hands on my shoulders. "I will not call this remission. I don't think that's what this is. But you've managed some sort of… stasis… for this month. You've not gotten any better, but you're not any worse." She put her hand under my chin to tip my face back up as I ducked to hide my tears. "This is good news, Claire."

"I know." My voice broke. "It's better than I hoped for. I'm just…" I pulled my chin out of her hand and wiped at my eyes with a corner of my gown. "It's a little overwhelming."

"Do you want me to get your aunt?"

"No. No. I'll be fine." I took a couple of deep breaths to steady myself. I focused on the way my hands gripped the edge of the exam table, how they crinkled the white paper covering it. "So now what?"

"I think we should stick to the plan of you coming in once a month. Just keep on as you are, get your rest, eat good food. We'll take it as it comes."

"Thanks," I said, grateful that she didn't want to run more tests.

"I'll see you in a month, Claire. Go ahead and get dressed. You have some good news to give to your aunt." Dr. C. patted my leg briefly before she left the room.

I sat there for a few minutes, just staring at the door after it closed behind her. I would be beyond belief if my body really did find a way to heal just when I stopped looking for a cure. I shook my head. I knew it wouldn't happen that way, and that kind of thought was a dangerous one to have.

:-:o:-:

Quil was sitting on the front porch steps waiting for us when we got back to the house. I hadn't said much to Emily. I still wasn't sure of how to deal with the news I'd received, or what to do about the hope that was making my heart beat so wildly.

I tried to remember all the research I had done before I'd left Maryland. I was sure I'd read a few cases where someone had a good couple of months before going rapidly downhill. That would be preferable to a long slow slog down. If I had my way I'd be as well as possible before just disappearing in the night. But that's how everyone would want it, and it rarely happened that way.

There was no way to know what would happen. There was no way to guess the amount of time I had left to walk around in my life. And I couldn't waste it trying to figure it out. I had to just take it and go with it, and live what I had.

I took a deep breath and squared my shoulders. Live what I have. Research hadn't gotten me much of anywhere anyway. Let it go and just live.

Quil opened the passenger side door for me, and reached out his hand to help me from the car. His touch sent a shock of heat down my arm as it always had, but I was getting used to the sensation. What I didn't expect was him holding on to my hand for a moment longer than necessary. He usually let go right away.

"I missed you," he said, looking me in the eye for the barest second before dropping my hand and focusing on the ground somewhere near his feet.

Emily didn't get out of the car, claiming that she needed to run errands and pick up Annie from school. She had a knowing smile on her face as she turned the car around and drove back down the driveway.

I felt heat bloom across my cheeks, and my heart picked up speed. "I missed you, too," I tried to say, but my voice didn't work very well so it came out more like a whisper. I cleared my throat and tried again. "I kinda got used to having you around."

He looked up at me again and nodded. I almost wanted to ask him if he felt as empty as I did this morning, but I wasn't nearly brave enough to go that far.

Rain started to patter on the hood of my jacket, so I started to move toward the house. Quil fell into step beside me, helped me up the stairs as he always did and followed me into the house.

"There wasn't any change," I blurted out as I was hanging up my jacket. I hadn't even said as much to Emily and I turned to look at him to see how he was taking the news. His eyes were intently on me, and I felt like I could let my guard down with him even if I couldn't with anyone else.

"I mean, I didn't get any worse. I didn't get any better, but I'm not any worse than I was a month and a half ago." I shook my head. "The doctor didn't know what it meant, and I don't really know either, but it's something right?" I looked back at him again. "It's something anyway."

He looked at me, his expression unfathomable. He seemed to be processing the information, and I stood there with my hand on the doorknob of the closet, afraid to move until he said something or gave some sort of sign.

He swallowed heavily, "Yes, it's something," he agreed, and then he smiled.

It was the first time I'd ever really seen him smile, and I was struck by how young it made him look. I'd seen little half smiles, or sorts of expressions that might have turned into a smile if he'd let them, but this was the first fully fledged smile that I'd ever seen on his face. I leaned back on the door behind me, laughing weakly.

"Something's all I got right now, so it's good." I had no idea if that thought made any sense at all, but Quil seemed to understand what I was trying to convey.

I was physically and emotionally exhausted, but I didn't want to go to my room and take a nap. I'd missed being around him all morning, and I didn't want to sequester myself off in my room by myself when I could be near him. I walked over to the couch that he was leaning on, and plopped down heavily. "We could watch a movie?" I offered.

"Okay," he agreed simply, and came around to sit down as well, letting me pick a light comedy that wouldn't involve too much brain power.

My mind wandered as soon as the opening credits started. If I'd come home with the same information to my mother, we would have spent hours discussing it. She would have combed through medical journals looking for clues. I would have been on the computer for half of the afternoon.

Emily hadn't asked a thing when we got to the car, letting me ride and think through things in silence.

Quil accepted my "it's something," explanation, and smiled over it, not asking for anything more.

The difference was astounding. But there was something more there. It wasn't just a personality difference. Even the most laid back person would want a little more clarification than "it's something."

It was like they _knew_ something. Like even if they didn't expect the news, it wasn't all that surprising for them. But then again, maybe it wasn't. They hadn't lived through the years of failed treatments and misdiagnoses with me. They didn't know how bad it had gotten or how rough it could be – and likely would be before the end of it.

That had to be it. They didn't know anything more than I knew. It was what they didn't know that made their reactions so different from what I was used to.

I didn't know that I'd fallen asleep until I was waking up. The TV was showing a screen saver, so the movie had ended quite some time before. But it wasn't the quiet that had woken me up.

I was warm.

I was mildly embarrassed to find my head on a pillow that was propped against Quil's leg, and my legs were covered with a blanket. He must have gotten them for me when I drifted off. But the blanket wasn't why I was warm. I'd slept under mountains of blankets for years and always felt chilled. Hot showers and saunas had little to no effect.

Quil was asleep as well, slouched down on the couch with his legs stretched out on an ottoman. His dark lashes rested close against his cheekbones and his breathing was slow and even. He looked more peaceful than I'd seen him since that day out on the rock.

His one arm was draped along the back of the couch, and must have slid a bit as he slumped. The very tips of his fingers rested on my waist, just grazing the skin where my shirt had pulled up from my pants. I could pinpoint the heat radiating through my body from the spot where his skin met mine.

I felt like I was still dreaming. Something like this couldn't be real. Carefully, so as not to wake him, I stretched out my legs. I couldn't help gasping in surprise.

It didn't hurt to move.

It was like the heat that had suffused my body had made its way into my joints. I'd always compared the pain to having broken glass embedded in my muscles and nerves, but maybe I should have been saying shards of ice. It was like they had melted away.

I stared at my elbow as I slowly unbent my arm, pain free for the first time in any memory. My sharp gasp or my movements must have awakened Quil because when I looked back at his face I found his dark brown eyes looking worriedly at me.

"Quil?" I tried to steady my voice. "I'm warm. It doesn't hurt. I…" I didn't know what to say to him. He'd closed his eyes, like he was warding something off. I didn't know what, but I felt suddenly very vulnerable lying there with my head almost in his lap. "What's going on?"

* * *

_Yes, Spotzle told me how evil I am to leave you hanging like this. I need a good cliffhanger every now and again. It keeps it fresh. :P  
_


	7. 7: He saves me

_This one is another one coming to you unbeta'd. I'm afraid my wonderkind Spotzle may be without power, since I've not heard from her. I'll call out the guard if it's too much longer, but I'm sure she has other things besides my commas to worry about at this particular point in time._

_Thank her though. It was some good prompting from her that triggered the second half of this chapter. Once she said a certain thing, the scene burned right into my brain. She's fab like that. Send love her way._

* * *

_Crazy how it feels tonight  
Crazy how you make it all alright, love_

…

_It's crazy I'm thinking  
Just knowing that the world is round__  
Here I'm dancing on the ground  
Am I right side up or upside down  
Is this real or am I dreaming_

_-Dave Matthews Band_

Quil slowly opened his eyes to stare at me once again.

I moved to sit up and he took his hand from where his fingers were brushing against my skin. I nearly shuddered with the loss of contact, but he moved his hand to brush at my hair and keep me lying where I was. I willingly complied, though I still felt incredibly vulnerable lying prone before him. I was willing to be vulnerable in this situation.

"Claire," he said so softly I could barely hear it over the pounding of my own heart. I could feel it though. The gravelly timber of his voice resonated through my very bones. His eyes bored into mine and were filled with equal parts of hope and anxiety.

"I don't think I could explain it right now if I tried. I don't even know if _I_ understand this." He raised the hand that wasn't stroking my hair and rubbed at his forehead.

He thought this was something that he should understand? Maybe my feelings that there was more to us, more to everything than I thought, weren't so far off base. I closed my own eyes to try to take this in, and then was struck by the most random of thoughts.

"I've never heard you talk so much," I couldn't help remarking, opening my eyes once again.

He smiled a half smile and answered me. "I haven't had anything to say for a long time."

He had a dimple in his right cheek when he smiled.

I got caught in his eyes again, and I wondered if he could see my heart beating in mine. It wasn't only the anticipation of trying to figure out what was going on that made me suddenly warm that sent it racing. I think it would have been racing even if I was still chilled and in pain, simply because of where I was and what was happening and how he was looking at me.

The cessation of my physical ills just added that wash of the improbable to everything, and made me wonder if I was still asleep. If I was, let me sleep for forever.

"I haven't been warm in a long time," I offered. "Probably since… ever." Not to mention the ever present pain that had somehow managed to vanish in the space of a few hours.

He didn't say anything, but kept stroking his fingers slowly through my hair. He was looking at me and through me at the same time, lost in thought.

"Quil?"

He came back to the present.

"What is this?" I pressed. "What's going on with us?"

"I'm sorry, Claire." He ran his free hand through his own hair. "I'm trying to understand it myself. It might help if you tell me more. If I can piece it together." He shook his head slightly in frustration. "It can't be. It's not supposed to go both ways," he muttered under his breath.

I looked at him curiously, but he didn't continue. "You want me to tell you about this afternoon?" I asked.

He nodded.

I sighed and licked my lips, focusing my eyes on the ceiling as if it were a screen where I could watch the events of my day.

"Okay then. Well… I got incredible news this morning that made me hope that maybe I'd have longer to live than I thought. And then I got home and you were there waiting." I glanced at him shyly. "And that made me happy." I nearly whispered that part.

"And then we came in here and I told you and you just took it as it was. You were happy about it instead of making me try to figure everything out. And then we watched the movie and I fell asleep at some point."

I paused and bit my lip, trying to figure out how to tell him the next part. I reached up and caught the fingers that were still slowly, almost unconsciously, winding through my hair and brought his hand back to my waist.

"And I woke up and felt warm for the first time in my life that I can remember. And I know you're warm, but that warm?" I shook my head.

"But right here," I put his hand back on that bare strip of my skin that was still showing between my waistband and the hem of my shirt. "Right here is where the warmth was coming from. Right where you were touching me."

I noticed that I was breathing hard as I laid it all out before him.

"And then I moved and for the first time ever in my life it didn't hurt to move. Like there was nothing wrong with me and it didn't feel like pieces of ice or glass were cutting me and my bones didn't feel like they were rubbing together." I broke off practically panting. I felt wild, like I could almost levitate right off the couch, but the force of Quil's eyes and the weight of his hand on my waist held me in place.

He swallowed heavily. The sound was loud in the quiet room. The only other noise was the incessant tapping of the rain on the windows, but it had gotten so I hardly heard that anymore.

"I…" His breath whooshed out of his body. He looked off to the side for a minute and then turned back to me. "I know. The noise is gone."

"What noise?" The house had been silent as far as I could tell.

"Like seashells. Like someone has been holding shells right up to my ears so I heard the roar over everything else." He licked his lips. "And I can feel you. Really you right under my fingers instead of feeling like there's some sort of layer between me and the rest of the world." He laughed shakily. "I didn't even notice it anymore until I touched you."

He dropped his head into his hand and rubbed his forehead. "And it doesn't make any sense," he murmured. "I thought it was just me. It's supposed to be just me."

I struggled to sit up again, and this time he let me.

He stared into my eyes and I felt hypnotized, lost in their deep depths.

"You… You know something about this. You have some idea… don't you?" I asked.

He closed his eyes and bowed his head.

"Claire," he reached blindly for me and I gave him my hands, relishing the heat that travelled up my arms and into my heart. "Please trust me." He started out sounding normal, but his voice became anguished. "Oh God, please trust me because I don't know what I'll do if you don't." He looked back up at me, his eyes blazing in his intensity.

"I'll tell you everything I can. I promise. But it's too much for all at once and I need to figure out how to do it." He drew a deep and shuddering breath. "Please… I need time."

I concentrated on breathing. I was caught in the tide of swirling emotions: hope for what he might be able to tell me, apprehension that I was falling in love with him and I couldn't help myself, fear that we wouldn't have enough time for any of it.

His gaze dropped to our hands, mine clasped in his, and I realized that we were both trembling. I heard car tires on the gravel of the driveway and knew that our time alone was limited.

"I've been telling Annie that La Push is magic," I said. My voice sounded breathless. I could live with magic. I was warm. I could move. I could live with eel juice and regular sacrifices to the moon at this point.

"Magic," he breathed. His eyes were swimming with tears.

He raised my hands in his slowly, bending his head over them as if he was praying. I felt his hot tears hit my skin and his warm breath moments before his lips grazed the tips of my fingers. My entire body flushed at the contact, and a soundless moan escaped my throat. My own eyes brimmed over.

"I have to go," he whispered. I felt his lips moving against my fingertips. "I have to…" he tore himself away and went barreling through the door and down the steps. He passed Emily and Annie without a word and ran across the grass toward the forest.

I sat there on the couch staring dumbly after him, feeling like my soul was running with him. Tears tracked down my face unheeded, and I only noticed them when the door banged shut behind Emily.

I raised my hand to wipe and my cheeks, and it was still trembling.

Emily and Annie were staring at me with identical expressions of shock on their faces.

"What happened?" Annie asked. Her voice was awestruck.

"I don't know," I answered her. I turned from them and gazed back out the window in the direction Quil had run. "But I want it to happen again."

:-:o:-:

Emily and Annie tried to act as if nothing was going on, but they were obviously walking on eggshells that evening.

I was surprised I noticed them at all. I still felt suspended in some sort of alternate reality… one where I was warm and could move normally. One that had hope for the future instead of trepidation of what tomorrow might bring.

I tried to behave normally, while still marveling at how easy it was to move, but every one of my pores was tuned to the front door, waiting for Quil to come back.

I made the obligatory phone call to my mom to tell her about my visit to the hospital, and I couldn't bring myself to tell her the truth of what was going on. I didn't want to be drawn into a discussion of what could be and what case studies she might have read that had this or that result.

I told her that my numbers seemed to be holding steady, only fibbing a little when I told her that they were slightly worse and telling her some of the studies that I remembered about a good few weeks before more drastic changes. She seemed to buy it, and didn't pick up on how distant I was feeling by my voice alone. Or if she did, she assumed it was because I was getting hard numbers showing a decline.

I did not mention my warmth or loss of pain to her at all. There wasn't any sense

in giving her false hope, even though with the events of the evening it had become permanently lodged in my brain.

Quil still hadn't returned by dinner time, and I pretended not to notice the questions that Annie and Emily were looking at me with their eyes. The meal was nearly silent, which was unusual in itself. Sam wasn't there, and none of the other men who seemed to always be around showed up. Emily and Annie decided that since it was an extremely rare girls' night, they should watch a movie, but didn't seem surprised at all when I declined to join them.

I wandered around the house, unable to settle in any room. Nothing occupied my mind, and I couldn't stop moving. I was anxious for Quil to return, but couldn't find anything to help me pass the time and had no idea when he might come home.

Finally the rain slacked off. The clouds broke and moonlight showed through. Even though it was getting late, I grabbed my jacket and went out to sit on the porch swing.

The air was crisp and damp, and the sound of the wind moving through the trees was soothing. I couldn't get comfortable on the porch swing and had nearly decided to go for a short walk on my newfound legs. I reached the front porch steps and had descended the first one – without pain! – when I glanced up and saw him.

A silvery white wolf broke through the tree line to run across the clearing. He was alone, and massively huge. I'd never seen a wolf in person so I didn't know if he was larger than average. My knees gave out beneath me and I sank to the porch in a rush. I didn't know if he was hunting, but for some reason I wasn't afraid. I didn't think he'd come near the house any way.

The moonlight glinted in his fur, and he wheeled around, gamboling as if he were out for the pure joy of the night rather than on any wolfy mission he might have. I'd never seen anything so beautiful in my life.

Suddenly he must have noticed where he was, because his head snapped around and he looked at the house and saw me sitting there. A surge of fear shot through me as he padded in the direction of the house, but he stopped a good distance away and sat on his haunches and watched me. It was crazy, but I thought he looked at me like he knew me.

I sat and looked back at him. His nose and eyes were dark in his silvery face, and I had the ridiculous urge to go to him and pet him. I wondered if his fur would feel soft or coarse under my hands.

I don't know how long we sat looking at each other in the moonlight, but it felt like a very long time before he got up and ran back across the clearing into the trees. I sat there for a little while, looking after where he had gone and wishing he would come back.

Finally realizing that he was gone for good, I got up and went back into the house. It was nearly 11 o'clock, and Quil still wasn't home, but I was calm again. Emily and Annie had gone to bed, and I was glad because I didn't think I could explain the wolf and why I hadn't come screaming into the house when he appeared.

I gave up waiting and went to bed, still amazed at how easy it was to get comfortable, and quickly fell into a dreamless sleep.

:-:o:-:

It woke me a little after 3:30. I must have rolled over in my sleep, and I lay there biting my lip, trying to keep from screaming out loud.

The pain was back with a vengeance. It was like some living thing that was angry that I had managed to escape for a little while. It seized me, rending and tearing my joints and muscles without mercy. I don't know if it felt worse because it actually was worse, or because I'd been so comfortable without it and was getting a fresh new perspective on how bad it really was.

I heaved myself out of bed and lurched toward the bathroom, hanging on to pieces of furniture all the way there. I turned on the faucet and caught some cold water in my hand, bringing it to my dried out mouth. I felt like I could see my movements outlined by a white throbbing membrane that seared itself on my vision. It was that superreality, magnified by pain and effort. My body was punched through the fabric of the world onto another plane, and I didn't know if I would ever make it back.

I clutched the edge of the basin and looked at my reflection in the mirror. My eyes were wild and my hair was sticking up every which way. I choked back a dry sob, as another bolt of pain shot through my body. There would be no more sleeping tonight.

The bed, with all its comfortable pillows and easy rest, belonged in the universe I had left behind. I clung to the bathroom door frame as another wave of pain rolled through my body, and I stuffed my wrist into my mouth to muffle the noise I made. Even on my worst nights, it had never been like this. Every fiber of my body was pulling in opposite directions, the fluid movements of earlier this evening were all but forgotten.

It wasn't worth it. I would rather have the pain be constant than get a few hours reprieve followed by it all catching up with me later. I tried to take a step and choked on another scream.

Emily had insisted on getting my prescription for oxycodone filled even when I protested that I'd never need it. I'd never bothered with bringing it back to my room, and it was still sitting on the kitchen counter next to the sink. I didn't know if it would work, but since so many things were different in La Push I decided to give it a try. Even if it didn't work, I couldn't stand here in the bathroom doorway until morning, and the bed was just a reminder of what could have been.

The kitchen was a million miles away. Step by torturous step I fought my way down the hallway, tears pouring down my face as I grabbed at the walls to keep myself from falling over. My knees were not cooperating, wobbling dangerously underneath me and threatening to crash me to the floor. My feet were full of lead, and I dragged them forward inch by inch, praying all the while. Sweat poured from my body even though I was freezing.

I finally reached the kitchen. The night light glowing over the stove gave me all the light I needed to see the little amber bottle of pills sitting on the counter, so close and so far away at the same time.

I finally made it to the bottle only to realize that the pharmacy had used a child proof cap. My traitorous hands could not grip the bottle hard enough to get it open. The twisting motion made the bones in my wrists grind together, and hacking sobs tore from my chest as I tried using my teeth. I banged the bottle futilely against the counter and a spasm ripped through my hand as my fingers slipped and I hit them as well.

The bottle sailed through the air and landed in the middle of the floor, the white pills smugly taunting me from the safety of their container. I crumpled to my knees, wailing silently as I cradled my injured hand to my chest, sobs wracking my body. I had to hold it together enough to not wake everyone in the house. I slumped forward and rested my forehead on the cold tile of the kitchen floor and waited for it all to end.

I heard the front door open and close softly and struggled to lift my head to see who could be coming or going at such an early hour. My muscles wouldn't cooperate and I lay there, waiting and hoping that whoever it was wouldn't need to come into the kitchen. I didn't need any witnesses to my misery.

"Claire," Quil's voice washed over me, slightly panicked. "Claire," he said again kneeling next to me and gathering me into his arms. Another sob burst out of me as the movement made a spasm shoot down my spine.

I felt as if I was suddenly plunged into a warm bath as his arms enveloped me. I tried to clutch at his t-shirt with my clawed hands and pressed my face into his chest as another shudder made its way down my body. He shifted his arms and stood up, holding me cradled in his arms.

"Don't leave me! Don't leave me!" I cried, panicked that he was going to take me to my room and put me down on my bed. I couldn't make my fingers behave well enough to grab hold of him and keep him there. I hadn't wanted anyone to find me on the floor, but now that he had me in his arms I didn't know if I'd survive being put down by myself again.

"Shussshhh Claire," he crooned. "Shhh… I will never leave you."

He left the kitchen and carried me into the living room, sitting in the recliner and holding me tightly in his lap.

I burrowed my face into his chest, tears soaking his shirt. I would have climbed right inside him if it had been within my power to do so. I couldn't get close enough.

He stroked my hair a few times and began running his hand up and down my back, trying to soothe me. I started to relax under his touch, listening to the vibrations of his voice as they traveled through his chest to my ear.

He rocked us slowly, speaking softly into my hair. I didn't quite hear the words, but it didn't seem to matter. The pain began to ebb and my mind became fuzzed with exhaustion. I wanted to say something to him, to thank him for saving me, but I didn't have the energy. I could only rest there, slowly swaying in his arms.

The last thing I remember before falling asleep was his voice telling me once again that he would never ever leave me. That was enough. I surrendered myself to unconsciousness, my head pressed against his chest, his voice surrounding me with peace.


	8. NOTE Not an update

Hi! Guess what? I had a baby. All is well. We are healthy, and she is that Miss Universe kind of gorgeous. Totally and completely worth the wait.

And now, back to your regularly scheduled story...


	9. 8: The why of it all

_I know I know... I'm back now. And I have a baby lying across my lap right now. She's worth it._

_Thank you Spotzle for the beta work. She keeps my commas under control and puts my buts on a diet. She needs to come over here and do it for my real butt. *rimshot Thankyouverymuch. I'll be here all night. Be sure to tip your server.

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_

Chapter 8

_And we are so fragile,__  
And our cracking bones make noise,__  
And we are just,  
Breakable, breakable, breakable girls and boys._

_-Ingrid Michaelson_

I slept without dreaming. Well, not exactly without dreaming. There were no images, but I had this overwhelming sense of safety and security that I could just let go and rest and nothing would harm me. No boogie men would come to get me. No worries about oversleeping and missing an appointment or other obligation. Just rest.

It was after noon when I finally woke up, warm once again, still on Quil's lap in the recliner. His arms were wrapped around me, pressing me to his chest. His breathing was slow and even, and his head was tilted back on the chair so I could only really see the underside of his chin.

I could hear Emily or someone moving quietly around in the kitchen, and marveled that the family had gone about their morning routine without disturbing us. I wondered what they thought of the situation… finding me sleeping on Quil out in the living room instead of in my bed.

I stirred slightly on his lap, not wanting to wake him but needing to go to the bathroom. He grumbled in response and his arms tightened around me. I rested my head back on his chest to think while I waited for him to wake a bit more, or my bladder to become more insistent – whichever came first.

Whatever magic that was working on me since coming to La Push wasn't about the place itself. It had to do with Quil. It made sense when I looked at it from that angle. He was always around so being near him had had some effect on me. He always sent waves of warmth through my body when he touched me. And then yesterday, when we'd had prolonged contact of his skin against mine… Well, to put it mildly, the results were astounding.

What's more, he said that he had some issues that resolved themselves when he was around me, too. So whatever it was went both ways.

I gingerly flexed my ankle, and the movement was easy once again. Being wrapped in Quil's arms for a few hours had once again made the pain go away. What kind of magic could do that? And would there be an even stronger relapse later today?

What if time with Quil healed me somewhat, but I would have to go through more terrible times to pay the price? What if the only way to keep on an even keel was to keep him at a distance; to stay in proximity to him but avoid actual contact? I looked back up at the underside of his strong jaw and my heart thudded loudly. I didn't want to avoid contact with him. If anything, I wanted to kiss that smooth expanse of brown skin and nibble along his jaw line until I found his lips. I bit my own lip at the thought.

What if he wanted to keep me at arm's length for the same reasons? Or, what if he felt the same stirrings of something more? Could I honestly do that to him when I didn't know how much time I had left? Emily said he'd been badly hurt in the past, and that's what had made him draw away from everyone. If I let myself love him and he loved me back and I died… I closed my eyes tightly in anguish. I couldn't do that to him.

How far would the magic go? Could it heal me completely? What if it wasn't even real?

I shifted my position again and Quil stirred in response. He loosened his hold as he lifted one of his hands and scrubbed at his face and he yawned. I could only smile at him from my spot on his lap. He looked like a tousled little boy waking up, except for the hair. He looked back at me and grinned a little in response, his brown eyes warm but anxious.

"Are you better?" he rasped.

I nodded. "I um… I need to go to the bathroom though," I said.

He lifted me easily off his lap and set me on my feet, making sure I was steady before letting me go. I bent my knees experimentally, and it was like when I moved my ankle. I could move easily again.

I looked down at him, with a hundred questions ready to tumble from my mouth. "Are you going to…" I didn't know how to put it. Explain the magic? Clue me in?

He nodded. "Hhhya," he sighed. "I'm going to try."

I stood there staring at him for a beat longer, but it was obviously something that was going to take more than one word to explain, so I took myself off to my room to get ready for what was left of the day.

Emily was waiting for me when I came out.

"Here are some sandwiches and drinks," she said, handing me a pack. She then pulled me in for a hug. "I know you're confused," she squeezed me tightly. "But it's okay. Things are going to work out. Just trust him." She pulled back to look me right in the eye. "It's all real. Every bit of it. Crazy, and wonderful, and real." She squeezed my shoulders with her hands and turned back into the kitchen without explaining further.

I turned around to find Quil standing behind me, an unreadable expression on his face as he watched Emily disappear into the kitchen. He had a folded blanket tucked under his arm, and he reached out and gently took the pack from me. Slinging it up over his shoulder, he took my hand in his.

His hand was so large, it swallowed mine. It was large, rough and smooth at the same time, and I looked at our hands clasped together for a moment before lifting my eyes to meet his. He drew a breath like he was going to say something, licked his lips, and then sighed. He tugged on my hand to get me started, and we walked out into the day.

It was mostly overcast, with a peek-a-boo sun showing its face every once in a while to chase away the thoughts of rain. Quil led me across the yard toward the trail we had followed to the coast before, and I figured that he wouldn't be saying anything until we reached our destination. It gave me more time to think, but I was running out of thoughts.

I remembered Amanda talking to Bev in the clinic that day, saying that maybe I would let go and pop up in some way that we wouldn't expect and could never fully understand. I remembered always feeling hope that somewhere out there was something that would make everything all right again, even when everything I knew pointed otherwise. I remembered my first night in La Push, how I'd wondered if maybe Quil was as broken as I was, only it was manifested in some other way. And I remembered Dr. C's furrowed brow as she examined my unchanged numbers and that sweet swell of victory that had risen up inside me before I'd squashed it back down again.

And Emily… Emily just moments ago telling me that it's real and wonderful and to trust Quil. I looked over at him. I did trust him. For absolutely no reason at all, I trusted him with my life.

I heard the sounds of the waves and birds and knew we were almost there. My heart began to thud in my chest. I was sure if I put my hand on my chest I'd be able to feel it.

Quil walked past the rocks we'd sat on before, stopping a short distance away and dropping my hand to spread the blanket on the ground in the shelter of another boulder. The sun peeked through the clouds and glinted on his hair briefly before sliding away again and he sat on the blanket.

I kneeled beside him (oh, how easy it was to go down on my knees like that!) and waited. His head was bowed and his eyes were closed, his lashes ebony against his cheeks as he composed himself. He finally looked at me, and his eyes were so deep it felt like I was getting lost in them.

"I don't know how to do this," he said huskily. "I feel like there should be some way to tell you this that won't sound so… so confusing and terrible, but I don't know how to do it."

I couldn't think of anything to say to that, so I opened the pack and handed him a drink. He took it and drank half of it in one guzzle.

"Emily said it was crazy and wonderful," I tried to reassure him. "Maybe start there?"

"You don't know anything about the Quileute legends, do you?" he asked.

"Not really." I wrinkled my brow at him, trying to figure out where his train of thought was headed.

He sighed, looking off into the distance. "Okay, well you need to know a little about that. At least the bare minimum.

"Our totem is the wolf, because our tribe is descended from wolves. They are the protectors of our people, and the symbol of our strength. There are legends about our ancestors being able to send their spirits out into the wind to do battle, and they could command dogs and wolves.

"One great warrior learned to share the body of a wolf, and could change between wolf and man. He had many sons, and passed this ability on to them. The tribe then had a pack of wolf-men to protect them."

He swallowed hard and brought his eyes back to me.

"They aren't legends, Claire. They're true."

He looked away again and swallowed the rest of his drink. The wind blew between us while I watched his Adam's apple bob up and down and I tried to piece it all together. It fit, except it didn't.

He didn't look like a wolf. There was nothing doglike in his features. He just looked like a young man with very old…

"Hair," I blurted, raising my hand to cover my mouth.

His eyes snapped back to mine, searching.

"It was you, in the clearing in front of the house, wasn't it?" I asked. "Last night, sitting out there looking at me."

He closed his eyes and nodded his head. He was the great silvery wolf that I'd watched running joyfully across the field. Emily was right, it was completely crazy.

"You were happy," I said.

"Yes, I was. I am."

"Why?" I asked.

"Because, Claire. You aren't going to die."

I snapped my eyes shut and gritted my teeth, holding my breath with the effort of squashing down that wild hope that bloomed so vibrantly in my body at his words. How could he know that? How could he say that so definitively when he hadn't even been there at my doctor's appointment? He didn't know anything about what I'd gone through before, the highs and the lows, and how easy it was for me to look like I was winning one day only to be beat down the very next. Hadn't I gone through all of that in a matter of hours only the night before? I'd been full of hope for the future, only to find myself lying helpless and hurting on the kitchen floor.

"Please, Quil. Don't joke." I whispered.

I felt his hand as he cupped my chin, forcing my head up. I opened my eyes to find him looking intently at me. "I'm not," he breathed. "You won't."

"No!" I yelled, tearing my face out of his grasp. I had to get away from him before I let myself believe him. My traitorous emotions were already taking hold and tears began spilling out of my eyes as I scrabbled backwards across the blanket. "You can't know that! You can't bring me out here in the middle of all this… this beautiful nature and tell me things like that! I can try and believe that you are some protector wolf-man and you turn into this silver wolf who runs around at night. I can try to believe that, but… But I can't believe that everything is going to be okay, because when it's not…" I stopped, heaving, and covered my face with my hands. "Because when it's not, it's going to be so much worse, and I can't handle that."

I felt his arms go around me and pull me onto his lap, holding me to him and rocking me slowly as I sobbed. His warmth was all around me and he didn't say anything more, letting me cry myself out until I was resting limply in his arms.

"I can heal you," he said simply.

"Because you're a magic wolf?" I half-laughed, half-whimpered.

He laughed quietly and squeezed me gently. "There's more to our story than that," he replied.

I wriggled out of his lap and turned so I was facing him. "Our story?" I prompted. He was looking uneasy again.

"Our story," he repeated. "Believe it or not, telling you that I can turn into a wolf was the easy part." He licked his lips.

"This will explain why I feel so much better when you're around?" I asked him.

He nodded and looked down at his lap without saying anything.

I sat there for a few moments waiting. He didn't speak. "Well?" I ducked my head and looked at him sideways trying to catch his eye.

His lips moved but I didn't hear anything. "What?" I asked. "Quil, you have to tell me. This is something that I need to know."

He closed his eyes and raised his head so that when his eyes opened he was looking directly into mine. "I'm bound to you," he said.

My heart gave a giant leap at his words. What did he mean by that? My mouth was open a little bit, but I couldn't close it because suddenly I needed the extra air.

"What?"

"Claire, I'm bound to you." He raised his arm and pressed his wrist to his lips for a minute before continuing. "This is going to sound really creepy and weird, but please don't run." He started to grab my hand, maybe to keep me there, but then thought better of it and clenched his hands together and took a deep breath.

"The first time I saw you, you were two years old."

"You remember that?"

"I remember that. I was sixteen."

My brain immediately started trying to calculate how old he was, but the number I was coming up with didn't make any sense when compared to the man sitting before me.

"The first time I saw you," he began again, "I imprinted on you."

I remembered the class that Amanda had taken in her undergrad. She'd had a baby duck who believed that she was its mother and it would follow her all over the building. "What, like a duck?" I blurted.

He actually started laughing at that. He was so tense, my question set him off and it was a few minutes before he could regain control over himself. "A duck," he muttered, wiping the tears from his eyes.

"It's kind of like that, but not really," he continued. "It's something to do with the wolf gene. When we see that certain person for the first time after we… come of age… it…" he gestured like he was trying to pluck words out of the air.

"It's like gravity," he said.

I waited for him to explain more, but he was looking at me expectantly. "I don't understand," I admitted.

He ran his hands through his hair. "This is so hard to explain in person," he muttered. He bit his lip, thinking.

"Okay, you're fine with the wolf thing?"

"You turn into a wolf," I answered. "With the moon?"

"No," he said waving his hand. "That's a myth. Or we're not really werewolves… something like that. I never thought the distinction was that important." He rifled through the pack and tossed me a sandwich, opening one for himself and taking a huge bite. "But the moon doesn't have anything to do with it. We can change whenever. Actually," he said wiping his mouth on a napkin. "It's hard to keep from changing in the beginning. Your emotions get out of control and you just phase without meaning to."

I nodded, trying to look like I was understanding what he was talking about when I was really trying to store some facts up to look at later when I was alone.

"So anyway, there are certain perks that come with the job. We're bigger than other men, and our body temperature is really high so we don't have to worry much about getting sick or needing a coat. And as long as we phase regularly, we don't age."

I nearly choked on my sandwich, and swallowed hard. "You don't age?" I croaked. I tried to control my expression, afraid that if I reacted too much he would stop talking.

He looked at me carefully and shook his head.

I forced myself to smile. "Must be handy," I said, looking away and taking a drink to help wash the stuck sandwich down. He didn't say anything, so I looked back at him. He was studying me like he was looking for some sort of sign. "Go on," I said. "Please?"

"Imprinting," he said slowly, "is another one of those things that comes with the territory. I saw you when you were two years old, and it was like everything else fell away from the world. You became the single most important person in the world. I was bound to you, am bound to you. I need to see you, to be near you." He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I live for you."

Was this a declaration of some sort? I didn't know what to do or how to respond and I gazed at my hands in my lap.

"And there are things about imprinting that we don't know about, or don't understand," he said.

I snapped my head back up to look at him.

"Our story… well there hadn't ever been a time when the person a wolf had imprinted on went away. And our story was different because you were only two years old and I was a sixteen year old in a twenty-five year-old body. Imprinting doesn't always happen and we didn't really know what to do when your family left.

"We didn't know you'd be gone for so long. We didn't know that your Mom would be so upset by it that she'd go so far and refuse all contact.

"I got lost in my own head and didn't know how to tell them how bad it was, and after a while I gave up trying." He shook his head back and forth. "But Claire, please believe me when I say that if I had _any_ idea that it was affecting you, too, I would have found a way to go to you.

"I thought that maybe it was for the best, and after a while I thought that maybe I was being punished for imprinting on a baby. That I was a nasty, dirty, pedophile and deserved the misery."

Tears dropped from his eyes as he reached for my hands.

"I didn't know that it went both ways. No one did. I didn't know that breaking it…"

His eyes were anguished and I impulsively climbed back onto his lap trying to comfort him.

"I never knew it would hurt you, too," he said into my hair.

I pushed away all of my questions and doubts as he burrowed his head into my shoulder. My mind was reeling with all the new information. It didn't make any sense, but at the same time, it made perfect sense. We still had a lot of talking to do, but it was my turn to hold him close as he cried.

* * *

_Come to Twilighted and play with me._


	10. 9: The years in between then and now

_Many thanks to Spotzle, superbeta. I'm impressed that our children actually let us accomplish anything, much less the writing and reviewing of chapters. Work it, Wonder Woman._

_My snazzy Edward action figure is on his way to me in the mail. Let the fun begin._

_The song is on the tread over at twilighted. Come play.

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Chapter 9

_'Cause I'm broken when I'm open  
And I don't feel like I am strong enough  
'Cause I'm broken when I'm lonesome  
And I don't feel right when you're gone away_

_--Seether_

My mind was reeling. How was this, my life? How could it be real? What steps had I taken, to be here on the edge of a cliff wrapped around a man who professed to be a _werewolf_, holding him while he cried? And why did it feel like no matter what I had done or how things had to be to get here… that this was where I was supposed to be?

I felt like crying all over again at the enormity of it. This was too much for one person to handle. I had joked about eel juice and sacrifices to the moon, but I didn't know if I really had what it took to be a part of a magical world.

My life thus far had been science at its finest. All of the best treatments, state of the art facilities… and I'd run away from all of it… to here… to the edge of a cliff and a man who said impossible things and promised me that I wouldn't die, which was the most impossible thing of all.

The idea of death had been my constant companion since I was old enough to understand the concept. The knowledge that my days on this earth were numbered had always figured in to my most basic ideas of how the world worked. And this man… I paused in my stroking of his hair. The idea that he could turn into another creature at will was somehow easier to comprehend than the idea that I could live to grow old.

Quil was quiet, his forehead against my neck. I resumed stroking his hair and realized that I had been rocking us back and forth gently as I thought. The motion was soothing my troubled mind.

It had been easy to joke about La Push being a magical place. Why should that be any easier to accept? Was it that much different to have it be the people instead of the place itself? And now that I knew, could I turn my back on it anyway?

The words Quil had said… "I live for you," spoke of a level of devotion that was even harder to comprehend. I had to admit to myself that my secret crush on him had been growing stronger by the day, but there was still so much I didn't know. The words started my heart pounding with anticipation of what they could possibly mean, and fear that I could never be worthy.

_Lord, I am not worthy to receive you, but only say the words and I shall be healed…_ Part of a church service ran through my mind at that thought. Shall I be healed? Would it really be possible? Was this what I had been searching for – that fundamental piece that was missing – for all those years?

Could this be why I was broken?

"Is this really why it all happened?" I whispered.

"Tell me what happened," Quil responded.

And so I began. I told him about the doctors and clinics, the treatments and misdiagnoses. We moved apart as I talked, and his eyes were awash with anguish while they remained focused on my face as I continued on… clinical trials, bone marrow transplant, chemotherapy, here and there and everywhere searching and hoping and praying for something – anything that would stop the pain.

Tears rolled slowly down both of our faces as I talked, but it was cathartic – like ripping off a Band-aid that had been plastered over a festering wound and removing the source of infection. No one at La Push knew everything about what I'd been through, and finally telling someone made me feel light enough to float away on the breeze.

Quil, however, looked awful.

"Quil?" I tugged on his hands a bit and suddenly found myself back in the circle of his arms.

"I'm sorry," he murmured into my neck. "I'm so sorry. I'm sorry." His hands were in constant motion, stroking up and down my back. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

I turned my head toward his.

"I'm sorry." His breath was hot in my ear. "I'm sorry." His nose grazed along my jaw line.

My heart was pounding. I thought he was going to kiss me. It felt like he was, like magnets were slowly drawing us closer together. But then he sighed and turned his head.

"You had it so much worse than I did," he said, gazing off into the distance.

It took me a moment to recover my wits, and I blinked. "Worse than you?" I echoed. I pulled back from him so I could see his face clearly. The chill wind made me miss the heat of his arms.

"Yeah," he agreed.

"What was it like? I mean, for you? What happened?"

He heaved a big sigh, reaching up to rub his forehead. "At first I didn't know what was going on," he began. "I mean, I knew it hurt to have you gone away from me, but I didn't put it together at first." He lifted his eyes to look at me ruefully. "I don't think anyone did."

He sat there silently, gathering his thoughts. I waited, almost patiently. He'd heard my tales of woe, and now it was his turn to talk.

"You see, the thing with imprinting, is that it doesn't happen often enough for us to know much about it." He reached over and plucked a blade of grass and began twining it around his fingers. "All of the things that anyone knew about it got lost when the last generation died out. So all we had were legends and rumors, and no one knew what was true and what was just a good story. That's why Emily's been writing everything down this time. So we'll have a record.

"So anyway," he continued, "after you left I felt lost a little bit, but I didn't think you'd be gone all that long. Your mom and Emily were really close, and I figured that she'd come around or whatever and I could at least see you sometimes even if she didn't want me around you all that much." He glanced up at me from his blade of grass and shrugged.

"I thought I had some sort of cold at first, which was weird because we don't get colds. My ears were stuffed up or something, you know? But it didn't go away, and it turned into that roaring sound I told you about before… like someone was holding seashells over my ears.

"And then Emily sat me down and told me how your family had gone away. We knew you'd gone to California, but we didn't know where. And we didn't know that your parents had changed your last name either."

I shook my head. "Wait, what?"

He nodded his head. "Yeah. We didn't know your last name was Parker until you sent your flight info to Emily."

I swallowed hard. My heart was pounding in my ears and I felt like I was going to throw up. My parents had changed our name?

Quil shrugged, "I can understand it, some," he said. "I mean, your Mom didn't like hearing about me imprinting on you at all, and she probably knew that Emily would try to find her after some time went by."

I just sat there, dumbfounded. I seemed to be doing a lot of that during our talk, but finding out someone is a werewolf, and he thinks he can heal you, oh and by the way your name isn't what you thought it was… Yeah, that will do it. I realized my hands were shaking as I lifted the Coke can to my mouth.

Quil stared at me for a minute, and then continued. "So anyway, once I knew you were gone, gone… I kind of just… fell apart. Depression? I don't know, probably worse than that. I don't think there's really a word for it." He ran a hand through his hair. "The roar got so loud that I could hardly hear anyone talking to me, and when I touched things it didn't really feel like I was touching them. Like my fingers were made of wood or something. Food wouldn't stay down, or when it did, it hurt so bad I wished it would come up anyway." He shook his head ruefully, "I think Emily fed me rice and boiled chicken for a year. My hair," he ran a hand through his silvery hair, "I guess it was from the stress or shock or something, but it started growing in grey, and after a couple of years… all the brown was gone.

"It got so that it felt like I was cut off from the world. I didn't notice who was around me, or why, or anything. I'd heard of people trying to cut themselves to feel something, and I tried it, but that didn't even work. It was like the pain belonged to someone else and I healed up right away anyway." His mouth drew up into a horrible smirk and he shook his head. His expression died away as he turned to look out over the water.

"So I just… existed. I'd phase but it almost as bad when I was a wolf. My emotions weren't so complicated, but they were still there, only I guess concentrated somehow because they were so simple. It just hurt. I'd run until I couldn't run any more. I'd come home and collapse and sleep for a day. I'd eat enough to keep going, and then I'd phase and run again. Nothing mattered. No one mattered."

He looked back at me and his eyes seared right through to my soul. "I'd lost the only thing on Earth that mattered. The only thing that kept me alive, was knowing that you were out there somewhere. I thought you were happy."

I tried hard to wrap my head around it. "So you just… ran?"

"Ran," he agreed.

"For years?"

He nodded. "It felt like an eternity at the time."

"And you know it was all caused by being away from me?" I struggled to understand something that was incomprehensible.

He opened his mouth, shut it, and nodded.

"Why?" I burst out, suddenly in tears and on my feet. I couldn't explain why I was so angry. More than angry, I was enraged. Too much information in too little time had been heaped upon me, and I grabbed the first emotional outlet that came my way.

Quil looked shocked. "Why?" he echoed.

"Yes, why?" I clenched my hands into fists and stomped my foot. "Why did you put yourself through that? Why didn't you try to find me?" I could picture in my mind the calendar of days flipping by, all the days in all the years that added up to so much pain for both of us. Useless, needless, pain.

His mouth was gaping like a fish. "I… Claire, I…" He struggled to talk. "I didn't even know your name."

"Ever heard of a P.I.?"

He looked at me blankly. For a second there, I thought he was going to run away, but instead he almost whispered, "I couldn't even get out of my head enough to tell anyone what was going on with me. They told me that even when I phased and our minds were connected… that mine just seemed kind of blank."

My anger faded to despair and I sank to my knees and covered my face with my hands.

"Claire," Quil's arms pulled me close again, and he held me tightly as I cried. Everything felt so wrong and hopeless. How much had we been through, for nothing? What would life have been like if I'd grown up here in La Push? Would I even be the same person? What would Quil be like? I pictured the other men who came around Sam and Emily's place, all of them joking and easy-going. What had I stolen from Quil so long ago when we moved away?

If only I had known… Everything would have been different.

Quil must have been thinking the same thing, because he was rocking me, saying, "Everything is going to be different now, Claire. Everything is going to be a lot better now." He continued rocking me and assuring me until I had quieted and the tears were dried on my face. I shifted so that I was leaning back against his chest, both of us looking out over the water. The afternoon was drawing to a close. It was comfortable.

"How is it going to be different?" my voice was raspy as I asked him.

"We were trying to figure that out last night," he replied. "That's where we were, at a meeting. I told them how you woke up and didn't hurt anymore and how your numbers were holding steady. I told them about the changes I was experiencing." He exhaled in a kind of laugh. "And they heard me talking. I think some of them forgot what I sounded like." He was quiet for a minute.

"Didn't you ever talk before?"

"Remember when I asked you about your enzymes?"

I nodded. Everyone had paused and looked at us.

"I think that was the first time I spoke in… oh probably sixteen years."

I blanched. Sixteen years… I was 4 years old the last time he'd spoken. I shut my eyes and pressed my lips together to keep from crying all over again.

So. Much. Wasted. Time.

"Did you come up with anything?" I struggled to keep my voice calm.

"Well, the best that we can figure, is being around each other again is healing the breach. Whatever went wrong will right itself. Maybe not all the way… like your numbers didn't get great but they held the same, right?"

"Yes."

"And that was before I figured out that touching you would make things even better. So maybe everything will… I don't know… get fixed? The longer we're together…"

I could hardly dare to dream.

Forget just the werewolf part being crazy. The whole thing was insane. My family thought it was so insane, they uprooted us and changed our name to get away from it.

"What was my last name? Before?"

"Parry," Quil answered.

That kind of made sense. Just change the end of our old last name and you get the new last name. Perfect for avoiding old family members and young werewolves who may or may not be after your little girl.

I felt drunk… slap happy… high on the idea of a cure that would be as easy as doing absolutely nothing but staying near someone who was completely and utterly amazing. Life should be so easy.

I was running out of resources to squash down the hope that wanted to break loose and take over my body. Could I even surrender to it?

How bad would it hurt if I did, and it failed?

But would I miss out on something wonderful if I clung to my old ideas? How much of my life had I missed already? Eighteen years of it, and I couldn't even remember the first two years of my life. Might as well call it the even twenty that it was.

I tipped my head back so it was resting on Quil's chest. "Do you really think I'll be well?" I couldn't keep the quivering out of my voice.

He leaned his head down so his cheek was right next to mine. "I know you'll be well," he answered with calm assurance.

I closed my eyes and let hope take over. Wells of emotion ran through my body like the waves crashing on the cliffs below us. Tears started from my eyes again, and I went limp, trying to process everything.

I tipped my head a little so that my cheek was resting against Quil's and simply tried to breathe. My nose filled with his masculine scent and I moved my head up and down to rub our cheeks together. His cheek was amazingly soft, no hint of stubble anywhere.

His breath hitched as I turned my head and my nose grazed his cheek. He smelled so good, some sort of mountain man woodsy scent that I could smell to the tips of my toes. Had it only been that morning that I pictured nibbling along his jaw line to find his lips?

I shifted to lean closer to him and suddenly found myself sitting alone on the blanket. The loss of his body heat made me break out in goose bumps. The loss of Quil was shocking in other ways.

"Quil?" I asked, turning to find him standing behind me, facing to the right.

He turned and looked at me, but it was too dark to read anything in his eyes.

"I'm sorry," I started. "I just… I think I'm starting to love you." That couldn't be bad could it? He said that he lived for me. Loving him should be a good thing.

"It's not love," he said gruffly. "It's just you getting better."

That made me angry again, and I stood up to face him. "I think I know how I feel!"

He only shook his head. "It's not love. It's desperation."

His words were like a smack in the face. I couldn't think of anything to say back to him. I opened my mouth a couple of times to try, but nothing would come out. Finally, I gave up and stalked off towards the trail back to the house. He could pick up the remains of our picnic by himself.


	11. Chapter 10

_Y'all are patient. Thanks. I'm getting better at typing one handed. Spotzle is raising money for an industrial sized cattle prod to use on my belated butt. Send her monopoly money or something. ;)  


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Chapter 10

_The worst is over now and we can breathe again  
I want to hold you high, you steal my pain away  
There's so much left to learn, and no one left to fight  
I want to hold you high and steal your pain_

_-Seether_

Tears were tracking down my face and dripping off my chin before I even hit the tree line. I barreled blindly into the woods, not knowing or caring if Quil was following me… much.

The signals he sent were so mixed, I couldn't figure anything out. He seemed to care for me, doing things as if I was his child or his responsibility. He said that he lived for me - LIVED for me! - and yet, when I got close to him… There was that moment when I could have sworn that he was about to kiss me, but I was only disappointed.

I was obviously very wrong about that.

My mind chased itself in circles as I walked towards the house. Quil was a werewolf. Werewolves were real. REAL! He imprinted on me when I was a baby. He lived for me. He was bound to me. He got sick when I left. He didn't know that I would get sick, too. So there must be something freaky with me. But I'm not a werewolf, Quil's the werewolf. Werewolves are real…

I came to a stop outside the house, my foot on the first step leading up to the deck. Quil got sick when I went away. He said that he was bound to me. My stomach fell to my feet as I remembered. _He never said anything about feelings one way or the other to me._ He was only bound to me – to live for me sounded romantic if you thought about all those movies where the hero would use that kind of line… but maybe it wasn't like that in this case. Maybe being bound to me was more… binding. Maybe it was more restrictive than romantic. Maybe he hated it. It wouldn't be a stretch to hate something that put you into an extreme depression that lasted nearly two decades. He probably didn't want to do all those nice things for me – he was compelled to do them instead. He would tolerate me because he had to for both of us to get well, but beyond that…

I sank down to sit on the step, staring off into the woods. There was no sign of Quil. Even though I was still warmed through from being with him all day, I felt cold and wretched deep down on the inside, like the very center of me had turned into the very blackest ice. I wrapped my arms around my knees, waiting, but he never came.

Finally, I had to give up and force myself to continue on up the steps and into the house. The ease of movement in my knees as I mounted the stairs made we want to start crying all over again, but I held myself together and opened the door.

Emily poked her head around a doorframe as I came inside. The expectant look on her face fell a bit as she took me in. I didn't know what to tell her.

She stared at me silently for a moment, and then asked me gently, "Claire, are you okay?"

I tried to say something, but nothing would come out, so I shrugged my shoulders and gave her a watery smile.

"Oh, honey." She wrapped her arms around me and guided me to sit at the kitchen table. I rested my head on my folded arms and listened to her bustling around the room behind me. A few minutes later she set a cup of tea on the table in front of me.

"What did he tell you?"

I reached out and wrapped my hands around the cup of warm liquid, tracing my thumb over the handle. "He told me that he's a werewolf, and about imprinting." I looked up into her limpid brown eyes. "When did Sam tell you?"

"About the imprinting?" she asked.

"He imprinted on you?"

She raised her hand to the scar on her cheek and nodded. "Yes," she said, quietly. She stared at my cup for a few moments, lost in thought, and then came to with a little jerk.

"It was a bad situation, for us."

"How bad?"

She sighed and brought her hand back to the table. "Sam was practically engaged to someone else when we met for the first time. That's how it works, you know, the imprinting. It's the first time they see you after they phase.

"So, Sam saw me, and all of a sudden he didn't care much about Leah anymore. Leah was his girlfriend, but it's more complicated than that since she's my cousin, too."

My eyes grew wide, my own problems momentarily forgotten with her story.

"Yeah," Emily said, agreeing with my expression. "It was pretty bad. Of course I didn't give him the time of day. I mean, how could he be in love with my cousin and then suddenly drop her," she placed her hand on her chest, "for me? What kind of guy would do that? I didn't even give him a chance to explain. I just avoided him." She grimaced. "And then it all hit the fan."

"What?" I asked, breathlessly.

"He was trying, again, to explain everything. And I was doing my best, again, to ignore him. But he wouldn't give up and it got heated. I was yelling at him about what a jerk he was, and he was pleading with me to understand… and then he phased." She touched her scar again.

My mouth was hanging open. I shut it with a snap and swallowed. "Did Sam… Did he… He didn't do that to you?"

"It's part of why your mom wanted to get you away so quickly when we told her about Quil," she answered. "You see, when werewolves are young they have a hard time keeping themselves under control. Any little thing can set them off. They get mad, and poof! They phase. They get scared, frustrated, anything… the fur explodes out and they can't figure out where their limbs are going when it happens. Sam phased, and I was too close. That's all there was to it. If I'd been two feet further away, I would have gotten a big scare and a huge shock – since I didn't know he was a werewolf at that time – but I wouldn't have been injured.

"We told everyone that I'd been attacked by a bear, but then when we had to tell your mom about Quil she figured it out." She looked ruefully at me. "Your mama is a very hard person to fool.

"We tried to explain that accidents like that were really rare. That it wouldn't happen to you. That Quil would be so careful, and so gentle, and he would be your greatest protector. But she didn't hear a word of it. She only saw my face and saw it all as a threat." She shook her head. "Honestly, I don't know if she would have even believed in the werewolves if not for this scar." She touched her cheek again, briefly. "Funny, how the thing that made her believe, was also the thing that drove her away."

"But how did you end up _married_ to Sam?" I was having a hard time wrapping my head around that idea. The guy halfway took her face off, but then she married him? And had a kid with him? And what about her cousin?

Emily sighed. "Sam was inconsolable after that. I was a mess, because I'd just seen this guy burst into fur right before he slashed my face." She shook her head again. "Things like that just weren't supposed to happen in the real world, you know?

"So while I was healing, all the elders of the tribe came to see me, one at a time." She put her hand on my hand. "You know, your mom and I are Makah instead of Quileute, so I didn't even know them. They told me legends and explained things, and it was all so crazy I just had to believe it. I mean, I couldn't doubt it because I'd _seen_ it happen with my own eyes, and there I was healing from it, too.

"And then they brought Sam in." She gazed at the wall, remembering. "He didn't want to come, but he couldn't stay away. He was so broken, all he could do was cry. And even though it didn't seem like it could really be… real… knowing his story, what he had been going though, and then seeing him like that…" She shrugged. "It put it into a whole different perspective. I felt sorrier for him than I did for myself."

She looked back at me again. "It all just kind of happened after that. I kept trying to help him feel better about something that he couldn't help, and he didn't mean to do. He kept trying to make it up to me. Somewhere in there, we fell in love." She smiled. "It's like he sees my scars, but he doesn't really see them anymore. He'll kiss them, almost like he's apologizing for it, even now after it's been so long. But all the every day stuff? He just tells me I'm beautiful. And the funny thing is that when he says it, I believe him."

"So you just forgave him, and that was it?"

"Yes and no," she laughed. "These guys, they're kind of thick sometimes. We had a lot of miscommunication and a lot of misunderstanding. He couldn't believe that I'd love someone who hurt me so badly. I couldn't get him to get over himself. And we both still felt bad about Leah, his cousin. So it sounds easy when I talk about it, but it took us a while to get everything figured out."

"What happened to Leah?"

"Oh she's part of the pack, now – the only female werewolf. But she imprinted about 5 years ago and they moved north. British Columbia, last I heard." She took a deep breath and sighed. "But all that was about me. What happened out there with you two?"

I told Emily about what had happened, but I left out my fears and the realization that maybe being bound wasn't all that great. I didn't think she'd understand, since her imprinting thing had worked out so well. She probably would have tried to talk me around to her way of thinking.

"Thick as a brick, just like Sam," she muttered, when I got to the part about Quil saying that it was desperation. She got up from the table and started flinging food into the skillet, sputtering the entire time.

"It's that thick wolf skull, that's what it is," she said, turning and brandishing the spatula at me with one hand on her hip. "Nothing can penetrate it. Makes you want to smack them if it wouldn't hurt your hand." She scrunched up a rag and threw it in the sink.

I couldn't think of how to respond, so I just sat there watching her until she slapped plate of eggs on the table in front of me.

She wrapped her arms around my shoulders again and squeezed me, resting her cheek on top of my head. "Hang in there, Claire. It takes them a while, but they figure it out eventually," she said. Then she walked off, leaving me to my food.

She obviously thought that Quil and I would end up _together,_ together. I choked back a sob at that and stared up at the ceiling, blinking my eyes hard and fast to hold back the tears. I would have loved that. It could have been wonderful. But it seemed that we were too broken for anything like that to work. The time that we had been separated had caused too many changes, and too many hurts.

I shoved the plate away and rested my head on my arms once again. I couldn't eat a bite.

:-:o:-:

I woke up the next morning in my bed. I sat up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes as I tried to orient myself. I was still in my clothes, but had been tucked into bed. Someone – Quil? – had put me to bed after I'd fallen asleep at the table.

I wondered if Emily had spoken to him. I wondered if he even cared. If I tried to talk to him he would probably see it as more desperation.

The house was silent. I crept out into the hall and looked around. The house was empty, as far as I could tell. Quil's door was firmly closed, so there was no way to know if he was home without knocking. And I wasn't going to knock.

What a difference 24 hours made. Yesterday I'd woken up in Quil's arms, warm and safe and protected. This morning, I was all alone. I remembered him whispering that he would never leave, and yet here I was, alone. He'd probably meant that he _couldn't_ ever leave. He probably resented it even more since I'd pushed the boundaries.

I stood silently in the hallway as I remembered the bone crushing pain that had led to that whole situation in the first place. Fear grabbed my heart. When would the pain be back? How would I even begin to cope if it was as bad as it was the other night?

I walked numbly down the hall to the kitchen. I had been unable to eat the night before, and still wasn't hungry, but I knew my body needed some sort of fuel. I grabbed a can of Ensure that Emily had gotten for the days when my appetite wasn't so good.

I took the can back to my room. I felt like I was hiding, but I didn't know what else to do with myself. I'd unconsciously been orienting myself around Quil since I'd come to La Push. He'd quietly become the center of my gravity, and I felt cast adrift with nowhere to land.

I felt pathetic and woebegone. I'd always been my own center. I'd had my family around me, but emotionally I'd always depended on myself, seen my own self through the difficulties and troubles. How had this happened to me? Had I lost myself in this imprinting? Or had I been emotionally stunted before, unable to share my real self with anyone around me?

No man is an island. No girl is either. But I had been, as much as it was possible for a person to be. I'd been close with my sisters, but even they had never known the whole me, the me I'd hidden from them to try to keep from hurting them.

The me I'd shared, unthinkingly bit by bit, with Quil.

I curled up on my bed and waited for the pain to come back.

It never did.

:-:o:-:

The next few weeks went by like life in a vacuum. I didn't know what to do with myself or how to be. I no longer hurt, my labs were actually improving, but I felt insubstantial. I ghosted through a house that always seemed empty. I didn't know how I was staying well when I never even spoke to Quil. We slept in rooms only a few feet away from each other, but it was like that barrier that had separated Quil from the rest of the world had now sprung up between us.

It was more lonely to be around him than it ever was before he'd become a part of my life, and I ached for that simple togetherness we'd shared before that picnic by the cliff. Sometimes I felt like he was looking at me, but I would glance up only to find his eyes elsewhere. Several times I had words on the end of my tongue, but they always died there before I got them out.

I would almost want the pain back, if only to have things be the way they'd been before. Scratch that, I would welcome it back with open arms, as long as it brought Quil back with it.

Emily did her best to fill my hours, and Annie was a constant at my side when she wasn't at school, but it wasn't the same. I did my best to please them, but I knew I was falling short.

Some days went by in minutes. Some minutes took hours.

I dwelled on what Emily had told me about her and Sam. Sometimes I would try to imagine that Quil cherished me like he did her. The fantasies were fun while I was in them, but coming back to Earth always left me bereft, and I would resolve to not put myself through that again.

It wasn't just Emily and Sam, either. I learned that other members of the pack had imprinted, and each time they ended up married. Quil and I were the odd ones – the anomalies in the already out-of-ordinary world I found myself in. It hurt even more to know that it was what _should_ have been. I can't say it's what would have happened in a more normal life, because our true difference in age would have made that impossible. But, in a more normal course of our lives, if we'd never been separated… yeah. Knowing that made it hurt even more.

If he would have really looked at me, I would have tried to talk to him, to break through that barrier. He didn't, and I didn't have the courage to try without some kind of positive sign.

It was like I was waiting for something… the other shoe to drop, a big fight with Quil, a car crash… something that would shake me out of this suspended reality and back into my real life – the life that no longer had an approaching expiration date. Because if this is how I was going to spend the rest of my days, did I even want to have them?

Wouldn't it be better to fall in love and go out in a blaze of glory instead of lingering and withering on for a normal lifespan?

Would I ever get over it? Would Quil even care if I found someone else? It didn't seem to matter since all men I knew were part of the pack, and as Quil's imprintee I was off limits.

Did I even want to move on? I chuckled dryly. I would be lying to myself if I even tried. How was I supposed to move on when it felt like everyone around me, myself included, was waiting for us to just get on with things?

If only he _would_ get on with things.

I cried myself to sleep a lot. I slept a lot – more than I had in years. In my dreams, we were together. He held my hand and talked to me, called me beautiful, touched my hair. In my dreams he didn't let _desperation_ hold him back. It's no wonder I escaped there so often.

Maybe I knew, in the back of my mind, and that's why I dreamed him with me so often. My body knew, even when my heart and my mind were despairing. It was shocking, but not unexpected, that morning I woke up and found him there.

He was asleep, leaning on his arm as he sat on the floor next to my bed. His large hand was wrapped around my wrist and most of my hand. The heat radiated up my arm and I closed my eyes to savor it and took a deep breath in.

The sound must have awakened him, because his hand tightened slightly. I looked into his deep brown eyes, his expression that of a boy with his hand caught in the cookie jar.

Neither of us said a word for a few moments, but he didn't let go, and his name tumbled from my lips.

"Quil?"


	12. 11: breakdown

_Thanks to the unequaled Spotzle for her beta powers, and general day to day chattiness. I wouldn't be here without her._

_Long winded author's note at the end.  
_

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Chapter 11

_So, let go  
Jump in  
Oh well, what you waiting for?  
It's all right  
'Cause there's beauty in the breakdown_

_-Frou Frou_

"Quil?"

We were frozen in time. The moment drew out, and I was afraid to say any more. I was afraid to even breathe too much, and break the tenuous link between us.

His eyes closed and he drew in a deep breath through his parted lips. I watched him, fascinated by his stillness and by the heat that was still radiating through my body from where his hand still loosely clasped my wrist. I was still looking at him when he started to let go and rise to his feet.

I scrabbled at his hand, clutching it with what was probably unnecessary force, but I was desperate. "Don't go." My voice was trembling, all my emotions projected out and laid bare for him to accept or reject at his will. I felt like my heart stopped beating while I waited for him to respond.

His eyes slowly opened. He opened his mouth to say something, but sighed instead and sank back to his knees, leaning until his forehead was resting against the side of the bed.

"I didn't mean to fall asleep," his voice rumbled. I hadn't heard it in weeks, and I felt it resonate inside my chest.

"Have you been?" My voice cracked and I couldn't get the rest of my question out.

His head nodded against the mattress. "I couldn't let the pain come back." He lifted his head to gaze at me and my heart flipped over. If I believed the look in his eyes, I'd think that maybe he didn't hate me after all. I fought the urge to throw myself into his arms and beg him to love me, just for a little while, or just for forever.

"Thanks," I said weakly.

He shrugged and started to rise again.

"Don't go," I said again, stronger than before. "Please. Please stay."

He stood there uncertainly for a moment, and then sat gingerly on the foot of my bed. The silence that stretched between us was hard to break.

"Quil," I began. "Quil, I… I just… It's just…" I struggled with how to begin. "Quil, I don't want you to hate me but I understand if you do."

He looked at me as if I were speaking another language, and shook his head slightly, like he was trying to clear water from his ears.

"For all of this." I waved my arm vaguely. "I know that things wouldn't be the way they are if I'd never left. And I know that it put you through a lot that you never asked for. And then I come back and things start to get better and I push you for more… and…" My voice broke again, and I sat there trying to regain control of my breathing. I couldn't hear a sound from Quil, so I chanced a peek at him to gauge his reaction. He was there, still as a stone, looking nothing less than heartbroken.

"I'm so sorry… so sorry," I blundered on. "It's just… I just…" I couldn't form my thoughts into complete sentences. I'd been wanting to talk to him for weeks, to smooth things over and put it back to rights, and now that I had the chance I couldn't even get anything out of my mouth.

I realized, suddenly and with a slight sense of horror, that I was still sleep tousled and had morning mouth. I started to get up.

"Will you stay? For just a little? Will you stay?" I didn't care if it sounded like I was begging.

He looked at me, his eyes pulling me in even now, and nodded his head. I turned and shoved my way into the bathroom before I could say something that I would regret. I didn't know what that would be, but he was finally consenting to stay in the same room with me while I was conscious, and I didn't want to take the chance.

I took care of my morning ablutions as quickly as I could, fearful that I would open the door to an empty room. He was there though, his legs stretched across the bed as he leaned against the wall. His eyes were closed, but I knew he could hear everything and knew I was there. My heart was thudding mercilessly as I crossed the room to climb back onto the bed.

I decided to start simply. "I missed you." My voice was hoarse, but there was nothing to be done about it.

He opened his eyes slowly, turning his head to gaze at me with that look again. It held a sadness that was so deep I could barely tolerate it, and something else that I wanted to mistake as love, but I wouldn't let myself. I couldn't hold back my tears, though, and they spilled over. I ducked my head to try to hide them and continued mumbling, "I didn't mean to…"

His hand came into my line of vision, and I quit talking as he wiped my tears gently with the tips of his fingers. I closed my eyes at the touch of his hand. I couldn't help it. Maybe I should have been mad at him for hiding from me for so long, for only being there with me now because I caught him, but I couldn't. Blame it on the imprinting – I had stopped caring by then.

"Claire." His voice was all low rumble and I fought another wash of emotion as I heard him say my name. "I could never hate you."

I lost it when he said that. I couldn't do anything but put my hands over my face and cry. I'd never been a person who cried over good news before, I had way too much sadness in my life to waste tears on happy things, but I needed some sort of release and couldn't control how it came about. I was having a minor breakdown, and I the only thing I could do was hang on for the ride.

I expected him to leave at any moment, and I felt the mattress dip as he shifted to get up from the bed. I curled up on myself and tried to bring myself under control, but lost it again when I felt his arms go around me as he pulled me onto his lap.

The sense of warmth and security was palpable, and I burrowed into his chest, seeking more. One of his arms was tight around me, holding me close while the other stroked my back. He rocked me gently, making shushing noises into my hair, while I slowly calmed down from my sobbing fit.

The thought that he was holding me on his lap, on my bed, walked dimly through the back of my mind, and I thought ruefully that crying was probably not the best way to end up in this kind of situation. I hiccupped, and wiped at my eyes, leaving my head on his shoulder for as long as I could. Quil's hand on my back began to slow, and I wished that he would have the same kinds of thoughts that I was having.

My nose was almost on his neck, and I could see the slow, steady throb of his pulse beneath his skin. He had tilted his head while he was rocking me, and his cheek was almost resting on my forehead. The barest of inches separated his lips from mine, and I wished with everything that I had that I was brave enough to kiss him, just once, even if it was the only time I ever would.

He started to turn his head, and I thought for one moment that he had heard my thoughts, or felt the same things that were making my heart pound so furiously, but he simply shifted me so that I was back on the bed. My heart sank, but he kept moving until he was stretched out on the bed, and he pulled me down to lie beside him.

We lay there, side by side, staring at the ceiling. I felt drained after crying, and elated to have some sort of the quiet time with Quil restored. I tried to remember all the things that I had planned on telling him when I rehearsed these scenarios in my head, but I couldn't remember anything. Maybe if I'd stuck to one and practiced it, I would have had some sort of plan to follow, but I didn't. But he was here, and it was quiet, and there was nothing to do but get it out, however it came out.

So, I opened my mouth and said the first thing that popped into my head.

"It's not desperation." That surprised even me. I hadn't planned on bringing that up, but maybe my mouth knew more about what needed to be said than I did.

Quil didn't say anything. I closed my eyes for a moment, and suddenly a face came into my memory. "Chris," I sighed, and covered my eyes with my arm. His eyes had been so blue, so pure, almost glowing in the middle of his stark white face. I felt Quil shift slightly next to me, waiting.

"I know desperation," I began. "And I won't argue that it's powerful and can take you down, especially if you're willing to go."

I lifted my arm and looked at him. He was watching me, unmoving, his eyes studying my face. I dropped my arm again. The story would be easier to tell if I didn't have to look at anything.

"So… I told you before about how things have been for me. How we would try different treatments and protocols and whatever. All this medical crap that apparently didn't have anything to do with anything." I tried to keep the bitterness out of my voice, and shrugged off that line of thought.

"I was 16, almost 17, and I was in the hospital, inpatient again. And I hadn't been there for that long, probably only a couple of days, when he showed up. I was there because my counts were low, but they weren't bad enough to put me in isolation, and I was going to be starting a new drug that had really high doses for the first part. He was there because he had a tumor in his head that was inoperable, and they were trying some sort of experimental treatment."

I laughed, "Do you know we never even saw the bottom half of each other's faces until maybe the eighth or ninth time we saw each other? Hospital stuff seriously warps your sense of perception. But he had these eyes… they were at least three shades of blue all at the same time…" I sighed.

"He was about the same age, a few months older, and we really hit it off. Both of us were tired of all the crap we had to do, but couldn't do anything about it. Both of us had overbearing mothers who didn't really ask if we wanted to do what they signed us up for. And both of us felt like we were just hanging around waiting to die.

"We hung out together as much as possible. We were old enough that our parents went home to sleep at night, and neither one of us slept very much, so we'd cruise the hallway and bother the nurses. We hung out in each other's rooms and watch bad late night TV. My hair fell out and he cried with me, because he knew all about how it was.

"We talked a lot. More than anything, we talked. It was so great and awful and great anyway to find someone who felt the same way I did and who got it, who really, really got it. We made each other feel normal.

"But he got weaker. The drugs weren't working. I started having to hang out in his room more than he hung out in mine. He started talking about dying more, and how he didn't really regret anything, but…" I trailed off and I knew I was blushing. Quil didn't try to prod me.

"He… well, neither one of us had ever really had a boyfriend or girlfriend. So all that physical stuff that…" I swallowed. "It had just never happened for either one of us.

"So we kissed. It was probably stupid, but we didn't care and did it anyway every chance we got. And it was exciting and terrifying at the same time because we were so afraid we'd get caught and they'd separate us. The nurses always had to knock and pull open the curtain every time they came into a room, so we had plenty of warning and we always sat on the bed to watch TV anyway. They probably knew but they acted like they didn't. Poor dying kids and all…

"It wasn't hard for things to move along pretty fast. Hospital gowns and pajama bottoms aren't the best barriers to that kind of thing, and neither one of us felt like we had much time to get experiences in. It was like we were racing to cram a whole lifetime into just a few weeks, and any rules be damned if they were in our way.

"So one night we decided that we'd just try and go for it, because he was getting weaker and I was getting more tired by the day and we were running out of time." I paused, remembering the smell of the sheets and the room freshener his mom insisted on having plugged in to "make it smell more like home," not knowing that the hospital smell was just as much home as home was, sometimes.

"What happened?" Quil's whisper stole through the air.

"We'd waited too long, or something. Maybe it was because we were desperate and not really in love. Or maybe we were in love, but too sick for it to matter. Or only in love because of the circumstances and not because of anything else... but nothing worked the way it was supposed to, you know, the way you read about in books. IVs got in the way, his head hurt him, we were so tired, and my whole body hurt so badly… We started out fine but we ended up just holding each other and crying."

I let my arm fall off my eyes so it was above my head, and I stared at the ceiling. "We didn't try that again."

"What happened to him?"

I closed my eyes and swallowed heavily. "Hospice. He had a scan a few days later that showed the drugs weren't working, so there wasn't much point for him to be in a hospital anymore." I paused, remembering. "I didn't find out about his funeral until it was over." I sniffed, and dabbed at my eyes. I was tired of crying.

"I'm only telling you about it so you'd know. I know what desperation feels like. There's all the heart pounding and exciting and oh-my-I'm-in-love feelings, but it's all heavy. Your heart sinks down instead of feeling like it's going to fly right out of your chest, probably because you aren't doing something because you want to."

I couldn't lie down anymore, so I sat up and turned to look down at Quil. His stare was direct, and I felt like I was in the exam of my life. My entire future hinged on whether I passed or failed.

"You're doing it because you're afraid of doing nothing and not having anything at all, so you grab whatever you can get your hands on."

"Like a cure."

There was no venom in his words. He said it simply, like there was no doubting and no argument to be made.

"Is that what you think?"

His eyes barely moved. He was seeing me, but he wasn't seeing _me_, and he was getting it all wrong.

"I was worried about you before, did you know that?" I couldn't look at his eyes anymore and dropped my gaze to his hands, clasped loosely across his chest.

"No." His answer was a whisper.

"Yeah," I half laughed, half sobbed. "Yeah I was so worried about you because Emily said that you'd been hurt really badly before. I guess that was by me, too. But I didn't know that then, and I was afraid that I was falling for you, and what if you did for me and then I died and you got hurt all over again."

I tried to keep my lips from trembling. "I guess I didn't need to worry about that. I mean, you said that you could never hate me. I'm sorry about that. I'm sorry you never had a choice in the matter." I knew I needed to be more pragmatic about the whole situation, and I tried to shrug into the personality that had served me so well when I was getting hard news before.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Quil looked bewildered, but at least he was showing some expression on his face.

"I mean, I had a lot of time to think, after the…" I paused to chew my lip. "Well, after that picnic disaster. I mean, it's all romantic to think about being bound to someone, or living for someone, or that kind of thing. But this isn't some romance novel. This is our _lives_, and you didn't ask for it. It's not like you woke up one day and planned on seeing some two year-old so you could be at her beck and call for the rest of her life or something." I shrugged. "It's just biology run amok. You don't have to like it. I can't blame you for resenting it. And now it must really suck big time to have to come be near me or both of us start to fall apart."

He sat up suddenly at that, turning and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He sat there, arms leaning on his thighs, and looked at me over his shoulder. His mouth opened, closed, and opened again before he huffed and stomped out of the room.

"Well, that went well," I muttered to myself, drawing my legs up to my chest and resting my chin on my knees. I could hear Quil taking his frustrations out on the kitchen cabinets as he banged around in there, and then the noise of his footsteps as he came back down the hall. I knew he must be mad, because I normally never heard him as he moved around the house. I didn't know what to think when he walked in and thrust a bowl of cereal and a spoon at me.

I took his offering gingerly, not knowing what to do or how to react. I was hungry though, and he watched as I scooped a bit into my mouth.

"I stayed away for so long because I can't say what I want to say and get it right. Because when I do talk it ends up coming out wrong, and then you say all these things and I don't know what to _do_ about it."

He sat down on the side of the bed again, his eyes slightly wild. "You talk and say all these things, and you make me feel things and I haven't felt _anything_ in a really long time and…" He got up from the bed and started pacing across the floor. I didn't want to say anything, because that seemed to be part of his problem. All I could do was watch him and finish my cereal as quickly as possible, stashing the bowl on my bedside table.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to do about it." His voice was anguished as he turned toward me and sank to his knees, leaning over the edge of the mattress. "It all the things you said about biology, and not having a choice, and how nobody knows what they're talking about when they try to tell me what to do. None of them have been where I was and no one knows what kind of hell you went through, and I'm so sorry and ashamed of myself because I don't even care!" His voice was cracking, and louder than I'd ever heard it before.

"I thought you were dying when you got out of that car. I thought you were going to be here for a few months, and then you'd be gone forever, and I wouldn't be able to stand it and if I was lucky then I'd just die, too, and I wouldn't have to feel that way anymore. And then you were doing all right, and then we had that meeting and figured out that maybe the broken imprint was causing it and it would be healed as long as we were together. And I told you about it, and you just accepted it so well, and told me that you thought you loved me, and how could I believe that when you don't know all the selfish, jealous things I was thinking about having you back. I didn't care about your past until then. I didn't even stop to think about what you'd been doing your whole life until now, until you told me about it.

"I don't care if it's biology or chemistry or imprinting or, or… I don't care!" He rocked back and slammed his fists down on his thighs. "I don't care why, and I don't care about what happened anymore, Claire." He seized his head in his hands and ground the heels of his hands into his eyes. "And all that you said about desperation, it fits, but it doesn't. And I feel like I should care about that, about all that we went through, about you not having a choice, but I don't. I don't!"

I slid off the bed and walked to him, pulling him to me and holding him as tight as I could. His breathing was so fast, I felt my body swaying in time to it. "Shhh." It was my turn to croon at him. "It's okay. It's okay."

I pulled him slowly to his feet, and we sat heavily on the side of the bed and leaned back so that we were lying side by side, once again staring at the ceiling. I was actually starting to feel drowsy when I heard his voice quietly say, "Claire?"

"Yeah?"

"What are we supposed to do now?"

"I don't know." I wriggled up so my head was resting on his shoulder. "Maybe we're supposed to let go of the past and just keep going."

"Is that what you want?" We both spoke at the same time. I cracked a smile. It felt good.

"I want to be happy," I told him.

"Me too."

It was so peaceful lying there with him, after the storm of emotions we'd just been through. I didn't mean to, but I fell asleep.

I woke up almost an hour later, and we had changed positions. We were now lying properly on the bed, Quil's head on my pillows. He had turned us so we were on our sides, with him spooning me as my head rested on his arm. I was insanely comfortable and warm right to the tips of my toes. I stretched luxuriously and felt him chuckle lightly behind me.

"Power nap?"

"Sorry," I said, sheepishly. "I don't know why I fell asleep."

He pulled me closer to him, tucking me close so I could feel his breath rushing over the top of my ear. "I fell asleep, too. I guess we needed it."

I couldn't see his face, so I felt brave enough to ask my next question. "Quil?"

"Yeah?"

"You said that I make you feel things. What do I make you feel?"

"Well." His arm lifted and he rubbed the back of his neck for a second, and then dropped his arm back around my waist. "I feel happy when I'm around you, and I want to be around you all the time. You make me feel angry when you say things like it must suck to have to be around you. I feel excited when I'm coming home and I know I'm going to see you, and scared you won't be here when I get back. And I feel kind of stupid for telling you all of this now, because this probably isn't the way people do things, but I don't know what I'm doing."

I turned on my back so I could see him. He had his head propped up on one arm and was looking at me, embarrassed. He shrugged his shoulder.

"I was sixteen when I first saw you. Before that I'd had the kiss-the-girl-in-the-parking-lot kind of thing, but I'd never had a steady girlfriend. I was all talk and no action. I joked a lot to cover up how nervous they made me, so I was more of a clown than anything. So I don't know what I'm doing but you keep looking at me and waiting for me to say something, and I'm not used to talking about this, or anything."

My heart was thundering again. He was starting to say the kinds of things I'd hoped to hear from him, but I couldn't believe in it. Not really.

"But you don't have a choice in the matter," I blurted.

"Maybe not. Without the imprint, I wouldn't even have known much about you when I first saw you. I mean, you were a baby. But I might still be hanging around like most of the pack, and I probably would have seen you visit Emily some time… Maybe… And it's not like you have much of a choice either. If I left you'd start getting sick again, start hurting again."

My heart spasmed when he mentioned leaving, and I shook my head. "I started falling for you that first night I was here. I didn't know why, but I couldn't get you out of my head. I thought of you all night, wondering who you were and why you looked so haunted. You're the one stuck by an imprint."

"No!" His eyes were blazing. "I don't care about the imprint. I don't care about biology, or any of it. Didn't you hear me before? The past doesn't even matter to me. All I want is whatever you want to give me. I'll take any of it, Claire. Whatever scrap you want to throw my way, I want it all."

His eyes were moving rapidly over my face, and then he fell back onto the pillow with a huge sigh. I lay there in shocked silence. Did he really say what I thought he just said?

"And that's why I was staying away from you," he said, speaking to the ceiling. "Because I don't know how things are supposed between a man and a woman. I don't know what to say, and I say the wrong things."

I turned toward him, propping my head up on my hand, but he wouldn't look at me. "Quil, that was most definitely not the wrong thing to say," I said, fighting a smile. "And the way things normally go between a man and a woman ends up being stupid and leading to misunderstandings half the time. Being direct and saying what you mean is so much better."

He finally looked at me. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." I beamed at him, and he started to smile in return.

"Be direct."

"Simple and to the point," I agreed.

He turned on his side and propped his head up on his hand, mirroring my position. The mood of our conversation abruptly changed.

"Say what you mean," he whispered, his eyes flickering back and forth between my eyes and my lips.

"Yeah." I could barely get the word out, and I bit my bottom lip.

He brought his hand up to cup my chin, sweeping his thumb over my lip. "Stop that," he murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper. "You'll hurt yourself."

I couldn't answer him. I closed my eyes, feeling his warm breath on my cheek, and tipped my head up slightly when he nudged me with his nose. His lips were soft, hesitating a little before growing more firm and purposeful. The hand on my chin stroked across my cheek and came to rest on my neck. I reached up and rested my hand on his cheek in return. My heart thumped furiously against my ribs, and it did not sink in desperation.

It flew.

* * *

_Okay! Yes, I am alive. Yes, I will finish the story. No, this is not the end. _

_To all the people who pm'd and reviewed to say nice things: thank you so much. I'm so happy and surprised that you're still here with me!_

_To all the haters: meh, you've probably left anyway. And the baby outranks you any day and every day._

_It's been a long time, yes I know. Google high needs baby + attachment parenting + infant reflux + elmination diet + + + + and there you go. Some babies sleep through the night when they're a couple of months old. My children do not have that gene. But one day I will be able to sit down and eat a whole meal at one time while it is still hot! and I will probably complain about being lonely. So there you have it. I do love to write, but I'm a mom first, so thanks to so many of you for understanding that._

_And honestly, I can't believe that you're still here! Reading what I wrote down... it blows my mind. You probably had to go back and reread everything to even remember what is going on, and yet you're still here! Thanks for sticking with me. Thanks for knowing that I'd come back, even when I was too busy being covered in assorted baby goo to know it myself. All of you are awesome. No really. Bonified awesome._


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